


The Spy Who Went Into The Cold

by BubbleBakerPenguinPie



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Brainwashing, Caretaking, Double Agents, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Nightmares, On the Run, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rating May Change, Slow Build, Spy Stuff, Tags May Change, Undercover, Undercover as a Couple, Withdrawal, during and post-movie, pls help me with tagging for I am hope- and clueless, safe houses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-14 09:59:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 26,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3406454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubbleBakerPenguinPie/pseuds/BubbleBakerPenguinPie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tess Reeves is a double agent, part of a highly covert operation to seek out possible infiltrators within SHIELD. After the apparent death of Director Fury and the ensuing events, she finds herself at the heart of the conspiracy and is faced with the Winter Soldier himself. Bringing in this particular asset turns out to be more difficult than expected. In fact, in the aftermath of the attack on the Triskelion and the reveal of HYDRA, just staying alive becomes a challenge. And if that weren't enough, unveiling the Winter Soldier's true identity forces her to face her past and fulfill her legacy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Threat Assessment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent Reeves is faced with a decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I realize there will be some minute divergences from the canon. Basically let us believe in Sitwell and go from there into highly covert spy stuff, wild chases and whatever else my brain deigns to come up with.

Fury was dead. She couldn’t reach her other contacts, perhaps they had been eliminated as well. Perhaps she was the only one left. Perhaps they had already found her out, and this invitation, sought for so long, was nothing but a ruse, designed to let her walk like a lamb to her own slaughter. But she couldn’t think like that. Years of work had led up to this. Years of careful probing and lying, testing for double meanings and hidden messages, years of monitoring and deceiving, years of chasing ghosts, infiltrating the infiltrators. At last she was being introduced into the inner circle of HYDRA, at last she would learn who led their operations within SHIELD, who the puppetmaster was in this game of spies and double agents. And at last she would get to see the Winter Soldier, and gain the information necessary to determine whether to eliminate this asset or whether it was worth bringing him in for questioning. Agent Tess Reeves masked her nerves well as she entered the vault, hidden within a fancy bank building in Washington DC. Her eyes fell on a man with a metal arm and long, unkempt hair tucked behind his ears. He was hooked up to several monitors and an IV drip.

So this was the famed Winter Soldier.

Rumlow gave her a signal and she obeyed automatically, moving smoothly across the room to stand slightly to the side of the man in the chair, positioning herself next to the IV. He seemed unaware of his surroundings as far as she could tell, his eyes staring off vaguely into the distance and brows furrowed. One of the lab technicians working on the internal circuits of his cybernetic arm made the mistake of leaning in too close too fast at the exact wrong moment and paid for it by being flung across half the room and into the wall of metal safety deposit boxes. Tess was just a fraction of a second slow in reacting, training her assault rifle on the man who now sat bolt upright, tense and heaving, fists clenched tightly. She caught Rumlow’s disapproving glance and bowed her head faintly, moving behind the Soldier’s seat and aiming her weapon at the back of his head. Her skin crawled as she took in whatever information she could. The chair he was in had a strange contraption attached to the back, two beams rising up and supporting a broken circle; it rose up above the Winter Soldier like a morbid, comically oversized halo. She peered down at the mass of plugs and wires coming out the contraption, trying to decipher what they were and what kind of machine this was.

It was her call to make, and with HYDRA obviously preparing to strike she would have to make up her mind fast: elimination or extraction. Over two dozen confirmed kills, goodness only knew how many he’d never been linked to. The Winter Soldier was undoubtedly HYDRA’s finest, most lethal weapon. She still had her rifle aimed at the back of his skull. All it would take was a simple flick of her finger. She wouldn’t make it out alive after that, but maybe that would be worth it.

Elimination or extraction. There had been several theories about the identity of the Winter Soldier. Those who believed he existed puzzled endlessly. Was he several men, one after the other taking up the infamous mantle to do HYDRA’s bidding? Was he a fanatic who dedicated his life to the cause or a cold-blooded mercenary who sold his skills to the highest bidder? The situation Tess found herself in now suggested that none of the above were true, that the actual facts were far more horrifying.

The Winter Soldier sat with hunched shoulders and drooping head, despite the numerous guns trained on him. Tess couldn’t see his face, but she could see the way his head snapped back without offering even the slightest hint of resistance when he was brutally backhanded by, of all people, Secretary Alexander Pierce of the World Security Council. And she could hear the Soldier’s soft, broken voice as he insisted that he knew the target. ‘The man on the bridge’ – Captain Rogers; Tess was only on this team now because too many of its previous members had been taken down in the fight on the causeway, the fight that had ensued as the Winter Soldier had gone after his most recent targets, Agent Romanoff and the Captain. ‘I knew him’- it didn’t make sense. Tess knew Romanoff had had an encounter with the Soldier before, Odessa, five years ago; shouldn’t he remember her then?

The fake concern slapped on Pierce’s face made her retch inwardly, and she kept her gaze trained on the wires on the back of the Winter Soldier’s chair, beginning to see a pattern. A suspicion solidified in her mind, and it was then she made her decision, dropping down on one knee smoothly, pretending to retie her boot. Eyes flicked to her only momentarily, pacified soon enough and returning to lock on the Soldier again within seconds. She took the chance to un- and re-plug a handful of wires from the back of the chair, praying she’d gotten it right. She came back up again just as Pierce ordered to wipe the Soldier, confirming Tess’ suspicion number one, that there was foul play involved. The man known as the Winter Soldier was not here by his own volition.


	2. AWOL

Tess’ fingers tightened around her rifle involuntarily as the Soldier’s agonized screams echoed through the vault. There was nothing more she could do at the moment, not without endangering the entire mission. She was a mole after all; it wasn’t just him that depended on her now. He had borne this torture for decades, she firmly told herself, one more time wouldn’t make a difference in the end, and maybe, hopefully, the little manipulations she had made on the wiping machine would somehow lessen its effect. Still nausea settled in the pit of her stomach like mould, and she bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood. Rumlow of course noticed her distress. He ordered her to stay behind with those who would prepare the Soldier for his last mission, unwittingly giving Tess a perfect window to implement the next steps if her impromptu extraction plan.

He was shaking when they unstrapped him, and badly too. Tess thought it no longer necessary to keep her gun trained on a man who was too busy retching on the floor to pose any threat, so she lowered it. The room was much less crowded than before, only one technician in a long white lab coat and three armed guards including herself. She used a moment of general distraction to replace the wires she had previously messed with. It wouldn’t do to get caught now; too much was hanging in the balance.

“You there,” the technician bellowed, pointing a fleshy finger at Tess rudely, “Come here. Clean him up.”

Tess nodded obediently, slinging her rifle onto her back and padding over swiftly to where the other two guards had already propped the Soldier back up in his chair. She took the damp towel that was offered to her without acknowledging the giver, focusing solely on the Soldier. This was the first time she could get a proper look at his face. He looked young, no older than thirty. His hollow blue eyes stared off into the distance, darting to meet hers only briefly when she raised the cloth to wipe the traces of vomit from his chin. He barely reacted as they dressed him like a doll, instead focusing his attentions on the agent explaining his next mission to him. It was a goldmine, and Tess found herself quite the fly on the wall. Now if only she had a sure and safe way of making contact with someone – anyone. With Fury dead her best bet would be Maria Hill, Romanoff and Rogers would also be good, since they seemed to be at the heart of it all. But this was idle thinking. She had to rely on them dealing with the situation without more forewarning. HYDRA were going to send the Winter Soldier after them again, and her too, along with the Strike teams, for the Insight launch. There wasn’t much time now as Tess and her two fellow guards escorted the Soldier above ground and into a nondescript van. The other two took the seats in the driver’s cabin, gleefully ordering her to get in the back with the Soldier.

He seemed docile enough for the moment, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular as he sat across from her. Tess was just contemplating the odds of them making it out alive and far enough away from what was about to go down if she disposed of the two men in front now, after somehow convincing a man that had just had his brain scrambled into trusting her.

“You did something to the Wiper.” His voice was so low that Tess almost didn’t hear him. Apparently she also hadn’t heard him take one of his guns from its holster, point it at her forehead and disengage the safety. Tess was sure he wasn’t supposed to threaten any member of the Strike Teams like that. This was not ideal.

“Please don’t…do …that.” She said tightly, nodding at the gun and praying inwardly.

“What did you do to the Wiper?” he pressed again, his finger tightening minutely around the trigger. Tess felt a cold sweat break out under the heavy, unyielding fabric of her tactical vest. They were still driving, and by her estimation they’d have approximately another quarter of an hour before they arrived at their destination.

“How do you figure?” she asked, trying to zone out the gun muzzle in her immediate field of vision. She guessed that he must be feeling threatened to react in a way that would surely get him punished under normal circumstances, but it did not particularly abate the dread of having to stare down a barrel. The muzzle wavered almost imperceptibly.

“I heard you shift around behind me. What did you do to the Wiper?” The Soldier asked again, flat, broken record, robot voice. This wasn’t right, she thought absently, there should have at least been a shadow of emotion in his voice. There had to be a human still underneath it all; otherwise what was she even doing here?

“Please lower the gun.” She pleaded evenly, now focusing on his eyes instead of the muzzle. There was some emotion there, she noted with relief. Apprehension, distrust, fear. She could work with that. The dolts in the front still hadn’t caught on to what was going on in the back of their vehicle.

“I switched some wires, pulled a few. I hoped it would somehow lessen the effect.”

“Why would you do that?” the barrel receded about half an inch.

“To help you. Did it work? I kinda had to make an educated guess since I’m not actually familiar with that thing.”

“It hurt more, but…” his gaze drifted to the side, brows furrowing. The gun wavered some more, then sank to about the level of Tess’ chest, which was still not ideal but marginally less disconcerting. Also this was a really bad time to notice how handsome the Winter Soldier was. Tess knew he usually wore a mask, and often goggles, but apparently HYDRA had opted to forego either, not expecting their big plan to fail. (Or not having any further use for their Asset afterwards either way.) None of these trains of thought should occupy her mind right now, so Tess shook herself back into focus, just in time to see the Soldier’s eyes turn hot with raw emotion.

“The man on the bridge…” he muttered forlornly, tone almost exactly like not an hour earlier when he had confronted Pierce down in the Vault.

“Yes, him. You still know that – that’s good.” He paid Tess’ words no real attention.

“I knew him. Not from the earlier mission. Before. I know him.”

Tess found that strange, but decided not to question it. It seemed important enough to the Soldier, and if it gave her an opening to get him to come with her she would gladly take it. She nodded encouragingly, using the Soldier’s distraction to gently point the gun away from herself.

“They want me to kill him, if he crosses my path.” The Soldier ended, focusing his gaze (and much to her chagrin his gun) back on Tess.

“I know him, too.” His finger tightened on the trigger reflexively, and Tess gulped hard, trying to keep her cool. “Not really well, but I know him well enough that I can bring you to him.”

“I have a mission.” The Soldier objected, back to the robot voice. Tess grimaced. Then, against her better judgment, she leant in closer, ignoring the fact that the barrel of the gun was pointed directly at her heart. She adopted a tone that was conspirational and sincere at once, letting him know that she was on his side, or at least that’s what she hoped.

“You don’t really want to fulfil this mission, do you?”

He hesitated a moment, eyes flickering to the two operatives in the front, who were still blissfully unaware of their little conversation. Then he shook his head minutely.

“Okay, you won’t have to do it, but you’ll have to come with me. We’ll be on the run for at least a few days, wait for the fallout of today, but after that I can bring you to him.” She ended with a hopeful smile that would have made Sharon proud. Tess was not the type to smile openly, or often. That same hope stole itself into the Soldier’s deep blue eyes for a moment, until she continued outlining the plan.

“We have about six or seven minutes before this van stops. When it does those two-“she gestured to the men in the driver’s cabin, “-will come back here and open the doors. That is when we kill them and run.”

Tess had anticipated a number of possible responses, but having the muzzle of a gun with its safety disengaged pressed against the underside of her jaw had not been one of them. Stupid. She barely knew the man and already she was making assumptions. People who are prone to underestimation were, in her experience, also prone to prematurely depart their lives.

“Please don’t do that.” She pleaded again, the hard metal digging into the soft skin of her throat as she spoke. The Soldier’s eyes were alight with dread and anger. He made no move to withdraw the gun. Perhaps defying decades of programming for nothing but a flurry of promising words had been too much to expect.

“I have my mission.” The robot voice was back, but at least the pressure on her pulse point abated some.

“Okay.” She said softly, “Okay. You do what you think you have to do.” Tess locked her eyes with the Soldier’s, mustering up all her will power not to blink, not to give him even the slightest thing that could be misconstrued as a sign of insincerity.

“Should you change your mind,” she continued, well aware that her words might well condemn Captain Rogers and seal his fate, “You can find me at a safe house south of Lincoln Park, Walter Street SE, 1206. Do you think you can find that?”

He nodded, once, a sharp, unwilling jerk of the head, but at least he finally, finally, replaced his gun to its holster. Tess allowed herself a subtle breath of relief.

“1206 Walter Street.” The Soldier repeated. Tess nodded.

“I’ll wait for you there until tomorrow morning. It’s your choice whether you come or not.” She made a point of stressing the word ‘choice’. “If you do, I’ll take you to the man on the bridge.”

The van stopped, and the engine was turned off, making Tess stiffen in her seat. The Soldier seemed prepossessed by her words, but perhaps he never paid the lowly work bees who lugged him from place to place much mind.

“What will you do?” he asked, just as the doors in the front clicked open and shut, signalling that the two operatives were only moments away from unleashing him. Tess gave a small, rueful smile.

“I’ll try to stay alive. I suggest you do the same.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know, feedback is always welcome, no matter of it's a smiley or a question or a simple 'I like it', though you're of course more than welcome to elaborate ;)


	3. Fight and Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by the way, the address of the first safe house as given in the previous chapter is a real address, so sorry to the people who probably live there and thank you google maps for enabling me to do this kindof research all the way from Europe  
> also hello first two subscribers! please make yourself at home, have a cookie, invite your friends...

Tess is careful to school her face into a mask of taut indifference when the van doors open. One of the two agents shoots her a leering grin that says he is equal parts astonished and glad she is alive after they’ve locked her up with the Winter Soldier. It irks her that even though _he_ doesn’t seem to be the rabid beast they make him out to be they had no qualms to put her there. At worst, she could have ended as completely avoidable and unnecessary collateral. There is no hope for humanity with people like this in power; all the more reason to try her best to see that Insight fails.

Rabid he might not be, but if the previous minutes inside the van are any indication, the Winter Soldier is still most definitely unpredictable. There is no telling how he’ll react if she just guns down the two agents now like she proposed, so that will have to wait and Tess will have to do something she has little practice in: put her faith in another person. All in all, this day could have gone better, she muses wryly. After checking his arsenal of weapons, the Soldier walks away without sparing her another glance. He stalks towards the looming silhouette of the Triskelion and soon he is out of sight. The other two men had taken the time for a smoke in one case, to make an intermediary report in the other. Tess stands by idly, demonstratively checking her handguns and ammo.

“Our orders are as follows…” the one man says, rounding the van as the other flicks away the butt of his cigarette. Tess breathes deeply and dispatches of both easily enough, before goon one can relay the orders he has just received. In the eerie silence that follows, offset only by the distant roar and hum of the Helicarrier hangars opening, she checks the perimeter again. No one in sight. She had hoped the Winter Soldier would change his mind after all and return, take her up on her offer. That’s what you get for being optimistic. She drags the bodies off and hides them underneath some shrubberies, after divesting them of their weapons and ammo, then turns back to the vehicle. She wants to go and help at the Triskelion, where a battle of some sorts is undoubtedly taking place, but she has her orders, and those orders place the mission above all else. But maybe she can get a message through to someone. With HYDRA being a veritable infestation within SHIELD there are few people she can trust without doubt, except that practically none of them are in on Operation Birdstrike. With both Fury and Sitwell out of the picture, Hill is her best bet. Romanov she trusts, but the Widow is with the Captain and therefore unreachable. Barton was on mission the last she knew. Sharon will likely be inside the Triskelion; contacting her would shed suspicion on the woman, endangering her. Tess has to trust Sharon’s judgment, which is not that difficult, and her sense of self-preservation, which is. Her own SO, Agent May, is too far away to be of any consequence. Hill it is, then. The Helicarriers rise above the Potomac ominously.

Tess drove the van to the other side of the river, taking a slightly lengthier route than necessary to avoid whoever might be fleeing from the direction of the Triskelion. She found a payphone and dialled the first of Hill’s many contact numbers, not that she expected the deputy director to pick up any one of them. No matter; it’s the message that counts.

_“Cuckoo at Nightingale, Kingfisher down, trying to bring in Bluebird. Updates as possible.”_

Tess left the exact same message with each of Maria Hill’s numbers, praying that the late Director did in fact confide in his deputy as thoroughly as she hopes.  
There are explosions overhead, and Tess flinches before looking up, where the first of three Helicarriers begins its rapid descent. Tess throws herself into the driver’s seat and makes for the site. While she drives, unwisely, towards the mayhem, the second aircraft crashes into the side of the building, and Tess can only imagine what it’s like up close. She hopes that there was enough time to evacuate the premises, though her natural pessimism gets in the way of believing it. She wonders whether the Soldier made up his mind yet. He’d seemed terrified of the idea of defying his orders, and it makes her wonder just what else they did to him to evoke such a visceral response. Then again maybe if the Captain could get through to him before, he can do so again, whatever their connection.

The aircraft above are falling with a slowness that sets her teeth on edge. There is really only one left half-airborne, and it plummets gracelessly towards the river, pieces of debris falling off it and splashing into the water below. Years of missions for SHIELD have made Tess quite good at zoning out the deafening noise, but the creaking of metal gets harder to ignore the closer she gets. She kills the engine when she reaches the river shore. The Helicarrier is going to slam into the only bridge left in the vicinity and for a moment, she is glad that she made it to this side of the river beforehand.

\--- --- ---

The Winter Soldier hesitates only a moment before dropping into the water below, diving after the man he was supposed to kill. His injured limbs protest when he hits the water surface, but he is used to pain and dives after the target. By all accounts it should have been a manageable fight. They had been evenly matched on the causeway, but now the man had almost seemed to want to avoid harming him, fighting to incapacitate rather than kill before refusing to fight all together. He could have snapped the Soldier’s neck instead of just cutting off his air supply until he passed out. He could have broken his arm instead of merely dislocating the shoulder. He could have just left the Soldier as he was pinned under that rafter, instead he came and moved the thing with the Soldier’s bullets still in his gut.

The Soldier thinks of the woman as he grabs a hold of the target and drags him back above water level and then towards the shore, gulping in water from the waves the aircraft makes as it crashes into the river. She had said she wanted to help him, that he wouldn’t have to go and complete the mission, but he’d been too afraid of the repercussions and too distrustful of the stranger. He knows what failed missions mean and he’s had to learn the hard way that no one can be trusted. The Soldier drops the target onto the sandy shore unceremoniously, probably agitating the man’s numerous wounds. He begins to walk away but turns before he has completed the first step. The target doesn’t breathe for a moment that stretches unnaturally in the Soldier’s perception, before he heaves softly and a hefty gulp of water spills over his lips. The Soldier lets out a breath he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding and turns to leave. The mission is over; he wilfully disobeyed, not only not killing the target but then actually saving him as well. He knows the consequences and they are nothing he wants to face. The woman offered him an out, gave him a place to turn to, and so he does.

\--- --- ---

Tess stayed just out of reach of the falling debris, but still close enough to make out the tiny figure clad in blue, white and red falling from the wreckage. She was behind the wheel in a matter of seconds, driving at breakneck speed towards the place where she had seen him fall. Luckily by now the sight of three giant aircraft had the effect that one speeding car didn’t draw that much attention in the general chaos, even though there were rarely any people on the stretch between her previous location and her destination. Tess’ heart pounded uneasily. She had let the Winter Soldier go, so she felt like she had personally condemned Captain Rogers. Idly she wondered whether the Soldier would be there when she arrived, whether the two had even met in combat at all this time. She wonders whether the Soldier is even still alive, and if he is, will he seek her out again? Maybe he’ll just return to HYDRA like a good little dog; if they could train him to fulfil the mission even though he didn’t want to Tess supposes it’s entirely within the realm of possibility that he’ll just come running back to them out of pure fear.

But right now Captain Rogers is her priority (though she hopes, selfishly, that she won’t actually have to dive into the river to pull him out). Tess parked the van half in the brush that separates the street from the shore and made her way through, towards the water. The bulk of the now wrecked third Helicarrier is in the water, but the thing is so big that even though it must already have sunk all the way to the bottom, half of it is still sticking out over the surface. There are fires, warped metal creaking and groaning, further debris floating around. Tess tries not to think about the number of people possibly still trapped in the remains; the majority of them will have been HYDRA anyway. Instead she steps so close that the water laps at her feet and peers out onto the river, trying to locate Captain Rogers. Her heart sinks a bit when she cannot locate him, but there is a stubbornness in Tess that makes her search the shore next rather than jump to the conclusion that the Captain must have drowned. It’s the same stubbornness that has kept her alive until now, so she estimates the effect of the current and starts downriver, picking her way through the shrubberies and pieces of debris.

She finds him lying prone on the wet sand, legs still mostly in the water. His eyelids flutter briefly as she leans over him to check his injuries, but he seems to be unconscious. There are two bullet holes in his gut, staining the white stripes of the suit red and the red stripes redder.

“I need you to stay with me, Captain Rogers.” She says insistently while tearing off her sleeve and pressing it to the wounds. The Captain’s breath is shallow but it’s there, thank goodness. This goes entirely against her mission parameters, but what kind of agent would she be – what kind of person, really – if she just let him die there. So, Tess musters all her strength and lugs the Captain’s heavy, waterlogged frame into the back of the repurposed HYDRA van, then speeds off towards the nearest hospital.


	4. Stick to the Plan

Tess broke several traffic laws in her haste, but at least she arrived at the ER doors just before the big rush that was sure to follow. There was no one outside, which was good. It wouldn’t do for her to get caught up there now. She parked the van right there and jumped out of the driver’s seat, yanking open the door to the back of the vehicle. The Captain was still out of it, and his blood was pooling underneath him but he was somehow still alive. She gave his gloved hand a little apologetic squeeze, then left the van wide open so he was in good view of everyone who might throw a look outside. She then retrieved all the weapons and ammo she could carry, turned on the alarm siren, and ran. If she hotwired another car she could still make it to the safe house before HYDRA realized there had been a mole among their numbers, and in the prime Strike team no less. Deep down in the dark part of her she hopes passionately that Rumlow is buried under a few metric tons of debris, and that he’ll never get out; she never liked the man. He gave her vibes, the kind that make your skin crawl and itch in that way where you know something is off but you can’t ever really put your finger on it. She trusted her instinct in these things. Steve had never given off any bad vibes (nor had the Winter Soldier, for that matter), but then she’d only met him once or twice in passing. Once when she’d helped Sharon move into her apartment and undercover mission and he’d lent his strong arms to carrying up the last half a dozen boxes. That man had goodness stamped over his heart. Tess sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening, threw one last look in the rear view mirror to see doctors rushing out to the seemingly abandoned van, then pushed her foot down on the gas and steered towards the safe house.

\--- --- ---  
The Soldier almost turned back a few times. Instead he weaved his way through undergrowth and back alleys, stealing a large hoodie from a clothing line to conceal the tactical gear, however insufficiently. Even a little cover is better than no cover. He picked his way through along the entire length of the National Mall, then through and towards the address the woman had given him.

By the time he navigated the bulk of the nearly six and a half miles he can feel every bruise and ache the day has left him with. He cradled his useless arm against his side, the dislocated joint jarring with every step until he’s so used to the throb and too exhausted to keep his gait smooth. At least he’s not coughed up any blood, which means that though his ribs took a definite hit they weren’t broken and piercing his organs. It’s the small things.

Like the woman’s smile. He remembers it vividly, her small encouraging smile while he had his gun shoved in her face. He doesn’t even know who she is, whether she is genuine and any of the things she said were true, but that little brave smile is like the first sight of rain in a drought. He’ll take it over Pierce’s slithery false grins any day. While he walks up to the house with the number 1206, he wonders idly whether the old man is dead or alive.

\--- --- --- 

Tess dumped the stolen car some two miles away with a post-it note that read ‘really sorry’ tucked under the windshield and walked the rest of the way. It was a nice car though, a Lexus that reeked of single and business, so the owner was likely insured and she wouldn’t have to worry so much about having deprived a needy household of their ride.  
The area was nice enough, middle class to residential. She liked the trees lining the streets. Once she reached the house, she bent down and pried open a brick right next to the short flight of steps that led up to the front door, retrieving the key that was stashed there. Tess went through every room and the back yard, securing the perimeter, before allowing herself the luxury of removing most of the weapons more or less concealed on her body and loosening the heavy tactical gear. Her undershirt was soaked and smelled rank. If the Soldier was coming after all she hoped he’d hurry up so she might be able to squeeze a short shower in. She was just taking an inventory of the supplies at the house – weapons, first-aid kit, food and, blessedly, even clothes – when she heard movement in the hallway downstairs. She grabs her gun and sidles down the stairs as noiselessly as she can. The lights are off, so she squints in preparation and flicks the switch, flooding the room and hopefully blinding the intruder long enough to get the upper hand should she need to.

The washed out hoodie conceals the dark tangled mane of hair only imperfectly, besides, the glint of his hand as he shields his eyes from the sudden brightness is more than telling. With a sigh of relief, Tess lowers her gun.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.” She remarked off-handedly. He squinted up at her through his fingers, glowering and blinking against the light.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be here.”

He lowered the metal hand and attempted to stand a little straighter, only to hiss in obvious discomfort. His right shoulder looks wonky and there are abrasions on his face – forehead, cheekbone, chin – that she can see. There are probably more injuries to be found underneath the tactical gear, but since he made it here on his own and seems able to stand without swaying they must not be too serious, nothing she can’t patch back up.

“Come on up and let me have a medical look at you and I might let you choose dinner. “ Tess quipped backing up the stairs. She might have been relieved her plan was working out so far, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t wary of the unstable rogue assassin she had decided to harbour. There was no way she was turning her back on him anytime soon.

“I’m not hungry.” The Soldier muttered ineffectively, trotting up the stairs behind the woman after he closed the window through which he climbed in.

 

“How do I know you really know him.” Are the first words out of the Soldier’s mouth once they’ve made it upstairs, and it’s just a tinge too filled with apprehension to be considered a fall back to the robot voice from earlier. Tess placed her gun on the counter, out of her hand but still within reach.

“You don’t, and I can’t really prove …actually wait.” There is one thing. He tenses immediately as her hand goes to her pocket, so she keeps her movements purposefully slow. There is a photo on her phone from the day Sharon moved in across from the Captain, and the chance to get a selfie with Captain America had proved too overpowering for Tess’ cool, detached agent façade. She flicked through her phone until she found the picture, then handed the device to the Soldier.

“I don’t know him well,” she conceded, “But I can get you to him. I know people.”

It sounds pitifully vague even to her own ears, and the Soldier looks somewhere between suspicious and too exhausted to care. He handed the phone back and sat down heavily on one of the stools by the kitchen counter, right arm instinctively moving up to start unzipping the hoodie. He doesn’t get far, pain shooting through the limb and making him grunt.

“I think I’ll take that look now.” Tess declared, placing the first aid kit down in front of him and stepping around the counter, hands raised slightly with palms facing forward. He only gave a defeated huff, then let her pull the layers of gear off him, complacent much like earlier that day in the bank when the agents had outfitted him for the mission. There are a lot of angry bruises marring his skin, and his ribs are tender to the slightest touch; probably cracked but not fully fractured. Tess cleaned and bandaged the many cuts and scrapes as best she could before turning to his right arm.

“This will hurt a lot,” She said, her hand bracing his dislocated shoulder pre-emptively, “But it’ll hurt a lot more and longer if we don’t do anything about it.” He gave her a sharp nod, pressing his jaws together so tightly she could hear his teeth gnash.

\--- --- ---

The woman’s touch was effective but gentle. That was another thing about her he noticed in the vault already. Usually his handlers’ prime concern was to keep him functional, they didn’t care for his comfort. Consequently, he hadn’t been touched with tenderness in living memory. He stayed quiet during her treating his wounds, letting his gaze linger on her figure in silent assessment. Her dark hair was just long enough to be put into a tight ponytail, but a few strands had escaped and she brushed them behind her ears frequently. It was thick and curled at the tips. She was of average height at around 5’ 4”, clearly athletic but lithe in build. If he had to guess he’d say her biggest forte was probably speed, and he was usually right with these things. Her eyes were a dark hazelnut brown and she had a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and he spied more on her shoulders through her loosened collar. She had a sun-kissed complexion, the kind that tanned effortlessly, stark in contrast to his own paleness. He looks every bit the ghost he was supposed to be.

“This will hurt a lot,” she said, her small warm hands on his aching shoulder and arm. He can feel the tension in her fingers and nods in acknowledgement, grinding his teeth together so that he doesn’t bite his tongue by accident.

There is a sharp pull that radiates through his shoulder and halfway down his spine; he can feel the ligaments stretch and the bones grind against each other until the joint snaps back into place with a resounding ‘pop’ that knocks the breath out of him a moment. Just because the Soldier is used to pain doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

“Okay,” the woman said, another small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, “Now we’re gonna have some dinner and I am going to take a shower.”

“I’m not hungry.” The Soldier protested, rolling his reset shoulder a little to test out that the range of movement hadn’t been impaired. The woman gave him an unimpressed look.

“Well, I’m starving. Maybe a look through the cupboards will change your mind. I’ll be in the shower.”


	5. Of Names and Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if the pace seems to be lagging at the moment, I promise there'll be more action again in the next chapters  
> also I developed two major ideas for this fic this week, so now I have an idea where this is all going, which is exciting^^

Despite the temptation, Tess only stayed under the hot spray for as long as it takes to scrub herself down and rinse the shampoo from her hair. Then she got dressed in some of the plain civilian clothes left behind at the house and made her way back into the kitchen, combing her fingers through her damp hair to separate the curls into some semblance of neatness. The Winter Soldier hadn’t put any of his garments back on and was therefore still shirtless as he stood in the kitchen, peering intently at a selection of different soup flavors. Maybe she ought to have offered him a fresh shirt beforehand, she thought regretfully. She can’t imagine that he’ll want to be back in the tactical gear; the thing is like a straightjacket with all its clasps and straps, and she knows from experience that there are more pleasant things than cooking in an envelope of leather. It had been a nightmare to get off, too.

“Aren’t you cold?” Tess asked. He shook his head, even that small movement slow and deliberate so as not to agitate his battered body. She shrugged. It wasn’t actually that cold, but she thought she felt him recede back behind that detached, mechanic robot persona and she didn’t like that. Not one bit.

“Well, there are clothes to pick from in the closet in the second room to the right if you change your mind. Speaking of changing your mind, hungry yet?” she stepped closer, but was mindful of keeping a respectful distance. Except she couldn’t reach into the cupboard without either shoving him aside or falling into him while he stood planted firmly in front of it. The man was built like a tank, too, and wary of her every move so those wouldn’t exactly be feasible things for her to do anyway. Besides, she doubted that sort of thing would go over well. Damn, she really had her eye on that one can of chicken soup. Time for a change of tactics. Tess took some bread out of the freezer and went to demonstratively rummage through the cutlery drawer.

“I think I’d like that chicken soup, what are you having?”

“I said I’m not hungry.” He insisted, stepping back from the cupboard. He sounded petulant in a tone that he probably wouldn’t have dared to employ with anyone at HYDRA.

“You still gotta eat something, even if it’s just a sandwich.” A sandwich or three would be what she intended to have along with that soup, and since it had been a long and stressful day she dug around in another cupboard for the peanut butter and marshmallow fluff she’d spied there during her earlier inventory. “Come on, big guy – I’m preparing mine so take advantage of that while you can.”

He huffed and rounded the counter, slumping slightly on the same stool he’d occupied earlier and letting his suspicious gaze follow her around. Tess rolled her eyes and started slapping peanut butter and marshmallow fluff onto slices of bread. She placed one on a plate and then placed that plate in front of the Soldier, whose attention seemed to have drifted since he almost jumped out of his skin when the ceramic clanged on the counter. Tess put her hands on her hips, locking him in a challenging stare.

“One Fluffernutter and I’ll be silent, I promise.”

He looked down at the sandwich as if it had personally let him down.

“I don’t even know your name.” he said to the sandwich. Tess couldn’t keep it in, it had been a long and very stressful day. A very long and stressful few days, if one aimed to be completely accurate.

“Fluffernutter, pleased to meet you!” she said in an artificially high cartoon voice. It earned a glare, but that was worth it. She smirked triumphantly, getting out what she needed to heat up a bowl of soup. He was still glowering when she sat down opposite him with her own stack of sandwiches.

“I will keep bothering you until you try that, you know. I can be very persistent.” She’d spent years undercover, after all. Years.

“Tell me who you are first.” The Soldier challenged. Tess shook her head indulgently while taking a gratifying bite out of her own sandwich.

“I tell you, you eat. Deal?”

He continued scowling. He really was quite good at that; it looked very menacing if you didn’t know the cause of it was him behaving like a toddler who refused to eat his veggies.

“I won’t let it go. Seriously.” Tess said, getting up to stir her soup.

“Neither will I.”

“Well, then it seems we are at an impasse.”

The Soldier fixed her in his stare a long moment, then picked up the sandwich with death-defying resolve and tore off a corner of it with his teeth. Tess waited smugly until he’d chewed and swallowed it.

“My name is Teresa Reeves. I am Agent 17 of SHIELD’s Special Service, though I formally gave up that position when I took up the mission that led me to you. You can call me Tess.” She didn’t flinch or pause; all that time working out her tells paying off.

“You could tell me anything.” He complained, taking another bite and chewing defiantly. Tess grinned, knowing beyond a doubt that she’d already won this round.

“I could have, but I didn’t. I haven’t lied to you yet.”

“Not that I can tell.” He acceded, grumbling. The sandwich was half gone by now. Tess wordlessly took another one from the small pile she had prepared and placed it on his plate.

\--- --- ---

The Soldier didn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t with the events of the previous day still replaying on a loop inside his mind, nor did he have to, thanks to his enhanced physique and training. Still, resting his tired limbs was a welcome repose. The woman – Agent Reeves – had said that they should be safe for the night, but would need to get going the following morning. Apparently she’d been following the fallout of the battle at the Triskelion as closely as she could, and HYDRA was exposed and thwarted in the same motion, making it unlikely that anyone would come attempting to retrieve the Soldier right away. Nevertheless, it would be a mistake to assume that HYDRA would just give up. He had a niggling feeling at the back of his mind that there was something he needed to tell her, a crucial detail, but he couldn’t grasp what it was and eventually gave up trying. Maybe it wasn’t that important after all. What was important, however, was the question of the man on the bridge. The Soldier wasn’t so sure he wanted to see the man again, not after almost killing him. He might not even be alive anymore. The Soldier wondered how likely it was that someone had found him before he bled out on the river shore… maybe he ought to have turned back after all.

In any case he would never go back to HYDRA; he’d sooner put himself out of commission. They’d only strap him back in the Wiper, and thanks to Agent Reeves he now had a notion of what that machine did to him other than inflict pain and make his mind blank and malleable.

He sat in an armchair in the den while Agent Reeves had stretched out on the couch under a couple of flimsy blankets. She slept neither long nor well, tossing with a terse pinch to her brow. He was amazed she trusted him enough to sleep in his presence at all; nobody had ever been _that_ tired before. Usually they would at least …he didn’t want to think about the restraints.

The blinds and curtains were open and let in the first grey light of day, shortly changing into warmer hues. Agent Reeves stirred a moment, mussing up her hair in the process. She blinked and squinted at him, then opened her mouth but all that came out was a low groan. He quirked a brow. She shot him a look of mild annoyance and cleared her throat.

“You been sitting there all night? That’s reassuring.” Her voice was rough from sleep. At first, he didn’t want to grace her with an answer, but the fear of misbehaving was ingrained too deeply into his mind.

“I kept watch.” He declared, defiant. “I’m not tired.”

Agent Reeves rolled her eyes and stretched.

“Like you weren’t hungry last night?” she taunted. He glared back, knowing full well that he’d ended up devouring more than half a loaf worth of bread in sandwiches. Maybe he didn’t even know what hunger felt like anymore. Eating or not eating, sleeping or not, it made no real difference to him. A weapon didn’t have such needs. Agent Reeves shook her head, brows set in a frown and lips pursed.

“Well, I’ll have another look at your wounds, then we have breakfast, scrounge up everything we need and get the hell out of the city.”

\--- --- ---

The Soldier removed the old hoodie he’d gotten from goodness knows where (a goodwill shop? Some unfortunate soul’s clothesline?) without any apparent discomfort. Indeed most of the bruising had faded considerably already. His cracked ribs were still a bit tender, but if he kept healing at this rate, he’d be good as new in a couple of days at the most, which was crazy. The only other person who healed this abnormally quickly was Captain Rogers, and he’d been scientifically enhanced.

Tess finished up her exam and ordered the Soldier to take a shower, then see which of the clothes from the cupboard fit him. She’d whip up a hearty breakfast in the meantime, since it wasn’t exactly certain when they’d next be able to get a meal.

Tess used the time she heard the shower running next door to check up on the latest developments. Romanoff had dumped all of SHIELD’s files on the web, so that meant that her identity was now open to the world, aliases as well as her real name. That was far from ideal, but couldn’t be helped. Luckily Tess had a contingency plan. And since they were going to get out of the city they could easily stop by her locker in Union Station on their way.

At least the Captain was still alive. His condition was critical, but according to news reports he’d pull through, so that was one less thing on Tess’ conscience. Not that she had any intention of bringing the Winter Soldier to him. Her original mission outline called for her to bring him in to SHIELD if possible, so at present her best bet would probably be Maria Hill. About whom Tess didn’t know where she was or would be, or would go with SHIELD now down. She’d need to figure that out while on the run with the Soldier, preferably before he noticed that they weren’t headed for Steve Rogers.


	6. That's not my name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey people! this chapter is a bit shorter than the previous ones, but I hope to make it up by making the next chapter that much longer  
> thanks for the kudos, too! It's always a bit disheartening to not get any feedback, especially if you're so emotionally invested in the story you're writing, so keep it coming ;)

Dressed in nondescript civilian clothes and armed with a couple of very full backpacks, they began the trek towards Union Station. There was still a faint column of smoke rising from the ruins of the Triskelion in the far distance, and the people actually out and about in the wake of the catastrophe ranged from cowed by distrust to stubbornly defiant.

There had been no gloves at the house however, so Tess had instructed the Soldier to keep his hands in his pockets until they remedied that. The wider public hadn’t seen his face but the arm was a dead giveaway. Furthermore she’d then looped her own arm through his, giving them the appearance of a backpacking couple, with the added benefit of keeping him close with minimal effort. They strolled down the National Mall, along the various museum buildings lining the wide streets on both sides. If anyone was already on their trail they’d hopefully think twice before mounting an attack in the middle of just so many intrepid tourists.

Tess was abruptly jerked out of step when the Soldier came to a sudden halt in front of the National Air and Space Museum.

“A little warning would have been nice.” She complained after regaining her balance. There was no discernible reaction. She followed the Soldier’s gaze to the large posters advertising a specialized exhibit about – of course – none other than Captain America and his Howling Commandos.

“You never asked me my name.” the Soldier murmured absently, eyes narrowing at the larger than life likeness of the good Captain in full getup, shield and all. Tess frowned, disentangling her arm from his but keeping her hand loosely on his forearm.

“You literally had your mind wiped in my presence; I didn’t think you’d have an answer to that question.” She argued. It wasn’t like she hadn’t wondered, especially what with him claiming to know Steve Rogers. The Captain did not exactly keep an extensive social circle, these days. He didn’t even manage to ask Sharon out, for crying out loud. Other than that, all his pre-ice acquaintances were dead, save one.

“I need to check something.” The Soldier said abruptly, making to start towards the museum entrance. Instinctively, Tess gripped his arm again, yanking him back.

“What, exactly, would that be?”

He bowed his head a moment, making a shadow fall over his features from the simple baseball hat Tess had picked out to hide most of his long mop of hair. When he looked back up, his eyes were full of raw emotion, both hope and despair with a dash of terror.

“It won’t take long,” he pleaded, much like he’d done in the vault when insisting that he knew the target. The memory made Tess slightly nauseated. “There’s something he said to me, on the Helicarrier. It won’t take long. Please, I need to know!”

Tess could be professional, detached even, but she was not heartless. What’s more, she could tell the Soldier would neither let it go nor forgive her if she resisted. And after all, he was still almost twice her size and probably more than outmatched her in close combat. It was still early, so they should have enough time, too. All in all, it would be riskier not to give in to such a simple wish than not. Besides, she might even find out something she didn’t know before, who could tell?

“Fine,” she sighed in mock defeat and chanced a look at her watch, “No more than half an hour total. You stay close to me unless I say otherwise and we will do absolutely nothing to draw attention. Understood?” he nodded gratefully.

 

There was, of course, the issue of the metal detectors. There was no entrance fee for the museum, but a long line of walk-through metal detectors stood just inside the glass doors, only narrow gaps between the tables that distanced one detector station from the next. Only half of the detectors were manned this early after opening and with not near as many people visiting as there might be on days that weren’t directly preceded by a global intelligence scandal. This was not ideal. On a more crowded day, they might have easily slipped through. Tess was on the verge of changing her mind, but the pleading look in the Winter Soldier’s bright blue eyes let that thought die before it could take root. And also because by now, her curiosity had been piqued. It wasn’t like she could just go and ask the good Captain whether or not he’d known the Soldier at any point in his life, so this was, at present, her best bet.

That left the small obstacle of how to get through a line of metal detectors with the 5 or so pounds worth of metal strapped to her own body in the shape of weapons, not to speak of the freaking metal arm her companion sported. It might actually be easier to pass that off as just any other prosthetic than to explain the Glock concealed in the clever bra holster under her shirt, or the Beretta in her belt, or the knives tucked into boots, sleeves and whatnot.

Tess was still thinking feverishly, trying to formulate a plan when a large, very noisy and excited group of tourists entered, momentarily drawing all attention. The Soldier reacted faster than she did and tugged her towards the gap next to the last manned detector, slipping through quickly and joining the small crowd of those already checked through as if they belonged there. Tess reeled a moment from how fast the action had taken place, holding onto his arm to steady herself a moment. Their unwitting diversion had already died down again.

“Nice move.” She commented under her breath, giving his forearm an appreciative pat before straightening her back and falling back into the role. They took a sweep of the ground level first, casually strolling between the models of rockets and old airline travel before ascending to the upper floor. There were sections on the invention of aircraft as well as pioneers of different kinds, for example and open room about the Tuskeegee Airmen and the first women pilots. Tess could feel her companion get twitchy, but she shushed him and steered him through the exhibits on the First and Second World War. The Captain America rooms were the next. Finally.

“Remember, no attention.” She whispered and tugged the Soldier onwards. He tensed palpably as soon as they entered the darkened rooms. There were a few people there, but the bulk of visitors was still behind them, another reason why Tess was wary of lingering, but the previous charade had been necessary to make them seem inconspicuous.  
Tess gently tugged her companion along, surveying the perimeter surreptitiously.

“So, what exactly are we looking for?” she asked lowly, paying more attention to the visitors than the exhibit itself. It wasn’t like she didn’t know a hell of a lot about Steve Rogers already from …another source. The Soldier’s steps faltered a bit and he came to a halt in front of an engraved glass panel. He didn’t answer her question, but Tess didn’t press him as she was for the moment busy following a sneaky looking middle aged man with her gaze. He had looked at them in a way that made her skin crawl, but after a moment of observation, she determined that it was in all likelihood just some random creep rather than a HYDRA informant.

“Well?” she prompted again, finally turning towards the Soldier and the object of his single-minded interest.

“This.” He said softly, nodding at the panel in front of them.

Tess’ eyes went wide when she realized she was standing next to a dead man.

A dead man who was smiling in what could not in good conscience be described as anything but pure, blissful relief.

Now it was Tess who struggled to keep her composure, her hand holding on to one concealed metal arm like it was a piece of driftwood and she shipwrecked far from shore. If that arm wasn’t made of metal she surely would have broken the skin or at least left a set of small, half-moon shaped bruises from the way her nails were digging into it.

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

_Bucky Barnes._

A lot of her questions were certainly answered now.

This changed everything.


	7. Best Laid Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love it when people bookmark works in progress like thank you for your faith kind reader ^^  
> also hello new subscribers! welcome to my humble abode

The Soldier’s smile faded soon; about as soon as the relief of having found a certainty to anchor himself to gave way to the crushing guilt revealed by this revelation. They let him keep the missions. His jaw set and his stomach started rolling, dizziness sending him reeling. He swayed a bit, leaning against Agent Reeves’ shoulder for support.

“Our time’s up. We should get going.” She whispered thickly and made to lead him along the defined path and towards the exit. The Soldier – _no, James; my name is James_ , he thought hazily – trudged along automatically. There was a great sense of serenity to find out that for once, he hadn’t been lied to. There was a great devastation in looking back at the previous decades (it had to have been decades going by the dates mentioned in the informational text on the panel, not that he’d had any sense of time or its passing; he had to make a quick mental calculation: around seventy) and seeing that he had been deceived all that time. His throat felt tight, like on the causeway, when the red-haired woman had jumped him with her garrote. He’d managed to throw her off, but only just and then, moments later, when aiming his gun at her, he had shifted the barrel at the last possible moment, shooting her through the shoulder instead of the heart, and he’d had the strangest notion of a dejá vu.

He could have easily taken out the woman, even as she ran, but something had prevented him from taking a fatal shot, like instinct. The same instinct that had coursed through him aboard the Helicarrier. Shooting the other man through the heart or head would have been an entirely doable thing for him, even as he moved, but he hadn’t, couldn’t. Instead you tried to bash his face in, a snide little voice in his mind remarked. His stomach heaved again; he felt the bile rise up in his throat. His vision blurred and his head swam violently. He had to rely completely on Agent Reeves to get them both out right now, and also, quite likely, to find an inconspicuous place for him to throw up within the next two minutes.

 

He had paled considerably under his scruffy beard, and started gulping between shallow breaths. As if Tess didn’t have enough things on her mind right now. Like that fact that Captain Rogers’ best friend was apparently alive and, well, far from anything that could be considered well actually. At least this was probably still marginally better than him losing it and going into a manic rage or something like that. She could deal with projectile vomiting, she told himself as she steered him out in the open and towards a large flowerbed towards the side of the building. Her own stomach did a flip as he heard him retching behind her, having turned away to afford him at least a shred of dignity. To keep her mind occupied, she rummaged through her backpack for a water bottle and a tissue while he emptied his stomach into the greenery, then slumped to his knees, leaning his forehead against the soothingly cool ceramic of the flowerbed.

“Sorry.” He whispered out of reflex, voice and throat raw from acid.

“No problem.” A tissue appeared in his field of vision, just before he meant to use his sleeve to wipe the excess remnants of partly digested breakfast from his mouth.

“It’s not like this is the first time.” Tess said wryly, handing him a bottle of water next, which he took gratefully to wash the acrid taste out of his mouth. It was true though, he reflected; this was the second time in as many days. It was also the second time that Agent Reeves was there to clean up the mess afterward. He took another swig of water, wincing when it ran down his tender throat.

“What can I say, I lead a rather stressful life.” He quipped, catching himself almost in the same breath. That was something Bucky Barnes might have said, but with everything that had happened to him in the meantime, he wasn’t sure that man was even alive anymore. How could he presume that name, that life, with what he’d done?

“You okay now? We need to get going.” Tess said urgently, placing a hand on his shoulder – the metal one; he flinched away immediately as soon as her fingertips grazed the scar tissue under his clothes.

“Ready.” He answered mechanically, shaking himself off and rising to his feet again. His eyes had that hard, blank edge like in the van the previous day, before he set off for his mission. Tess didn’t like it.

What she also didn’t like was the turn of events. Why couldn’t he have been literally any other random person? Out of the handful of people she could have reasonably talked this over with, one was dead, one hospitalized, two virtually unreachable unless _they_ contacted _her_ , and the last off limits to her due to the very mission that led her to this point. Peggy Carter would know what to do, but as it was, Tess would have to deal with this on her own.

Well, Tess supposed the previous plan was as good now as it had been before. They’d still need to go into hiding and get out of the city. Tess was just sad she couldn’t go to see her grandmother beforehand. She didn’t have a lot of family left and since there was a good chance that she might get harmed or even killed in the next few days, she’d really have liked to say goodbye at least.

 

They made it to Union Station and Tess took the key to her locker from a secret pocket in her bra and opened it. The duffel bags inside contained everything one might need to drop off the grid: cash, documents, weapons, disguises, clothes, and most importantly, a secure, untraceable phone for this express purpose. She just hoped that Director Fury’s effects contained the number of it for Maria Hill; the deputy director should have gotten her message by now.

Then again, Hill might order her to bring in Barnes immediately. She didn’t really want to do that anymore. Actually she really wanted to take him by the sleeve, march him to the hospital and drop him off at Steve Rogers’ bedside so he wouldn’t be her problem anymore, but that wasn’t really a feasible option right now, since the Captain was most likely being guarded closely.

At least the Soldier (no, Barnes; she’d ask him what she should call him later) seemed to have calmed down some, even if he had retreated back inside his robot shell. But he was docile and didn’t resist her dragging him across the train station, in fact barely even speaking until they’d boarded a train that would bring them further downstate. Come the next day, she wanted them to be as far away from Washington as possible.

They’d been on the train for close to two hours, their carriage emptying out in a steady trickle, though it hadn’t been very full to begin with. The bulk of passengers were commuters and on their way into the city rather than out of it at this hour. Barnes still hadn’t said a word, only giving a non-committal shrug when she’d asked whether it was alright to call him James. Then again, it wasn’t like they weren’t going to have to use their fair share of aliases in the days to come.

Tess rifled through her things. Her personal make-me-disappear-spy kit naturally only had documents and clothes for herself, seeing as there was no way she could have predicted she’d be dragging anyone along should the need arise, much less an M.I.A. war hero turned brainwashed assassin. Maybe she ought to have updated it after accepting the mission from Fury. They should probably change their appearances, too, Tess mused, already wondering what to do with her hair. As dark as it was, it wouldn’t make much of a difference to dye it even darker, and any shade of blond or red would only serve to make her stand out more instead of blending in. a wig was likely her best bet. If only Romanoff hadn’t dumped their files all over the web; with her full identity revealed now there might even be people tempted to come after her. That was one of the reasons she’d changed her name, to conceal her true heritage. Only it seemed that the weight of the legacy that heritage carried had found her nonetheless, she reflected looking over at the man staring blankly into nothing.

 

Barnes had taken the aisle seat, studiously avoiding looking out the window and at the passing landscape. The movement of the train made the back of his throat tingle with anxiety and he gripped the armrests until the whirring from inside his left sleeve was too loud for Agent Reeves to ignore. She covered his metal hand with her much smaller one ineffectually, but her touch was still gentle, like when she had patched up his injuries the previous night.

“This is where we get off.”

His head swam as she stood, vision blurring a moment, going fuzzy around the edges. It’s not good that he is so vulnerable, having to rely on a woman he actually doesn’t really know. Maybe he ought to have slept the night before, even if it was just a little nap – not that he really knows how. Dammit, two days should not put this much of a strain on him; he performed missions more draining and complex without fail, he cannot fold like this now.

It’s pure stubborn willpower and his grueling training that allow him to stand and walk after Agent Reeves. They’d beaten every regard for his personal well-being out of him to a point where he can and would literally go on until the very vast limits of his enhanced physique were exhausted and he’d collapse. As it is, he trails Agent Reeves from a train station surrounded by thick vegetation (stellar concealment for an ambush, threat level high), along the edges of a small town and into the rickety remains of what might have once been a farm house (structural integrity questionable, walls too thin, windows too large, creaky floors, threat level worrisome).  Outside the light is fading, and inside Agent Reeves had taken one good long look at him, deposited him in a moth-eaten armchair and blocked the windows as best she could before making a small fire in a basin and warming up a can of something edible for each of them.

 

Tess had chosen the location carefully, seeing as the one thing she learned during her time undercover was that you should never underestimate HYDRA’s determination to get their way and decimate everything and everyone who stood between them and it. Barnes had gotten steadily worse, drawing in on himself and looking more like a ghost with every passing minute. The guy needed some sunlight on his face. The farm was not ideal from a tactical standpoint, but it was unconnected to her or her family in any way and far away enough from any civilians to not make them targets. Tess just hoped that they’d take longer to lick their wounds and take up the chase; Barnes seemed nowhere near any fighting condition and he hadn’t said a word since they left DC, barely looked at her since and only shot her furtive glances when she addressed him. She suspected that he hadn’t slept the night before and from what she could piece together of small talk and offhanded remarks overheard during her time undercover, this had also been the longest he’d been off ice and whatever vile concoctions they gave him via those drips in decades. Tess prayed and threw a blanket over Barnes’ unresponsive frame. A mentally unstable assassin going through withdrawal was the last thing she needed right now.

 

Turns out she was wrong about that last part. The last thing she needed was a contingent of HYDRA thugs startling her out of her fitful half-sleep at goddamned two in the morning. There was no time to wonder how they found them as she used her blanket to wrench away the arm that had been about to plunge a blade into her jugular.

“James!” she howled, springing into action. There wasn’t really a point in trying to stay quiet anymore, seeing as they’d already been found. She just hoped that Barnes had not been too out of it still to fight back. There was no way she’d be able to take on the whole small army of HYDRA agents by herself, not even with all the training she’d had.

Tess had vaulted off and over the back of the couch she’d been resting on before the thug even registered that his jab had been redirected. Using the remaining length of the blanket, she wrapped it around him while catapulting herself over his shoulders, incapacitating her attacker. She didn’t have time to let her eyes adjust to the darkness, instead relying on her hearing to take out two more men before she could even think about taking a look for Barnes. Seems like she needn’t have worried though. He’d already dispatched three attackers and was just hauling a fourth across the room and towards the basin she’d used to cook earlier, slamming the man’s head down into the still glowing ashes. Tess flinched at his pained howls and shouted for Barnes to duck so she could shoot the man charging him from behind. He reciprocated by flinging a knife into the trachea of the last thug, a tower of a man almost two feet taller than her, who had made the misguided decision to use garrotes as his weapon of choice, rather than something more long-range.

There was a moment of silence after the bodies had dropped, just long enough to verify that there were no more coming for now. Barnes’ eyes gave off a strange glint in the sliver of moonlight shining in through Tess’ now compromised window blinds.

“We gotta go. Now.” She said thickly, already stooping to throw half of the bags over her shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooh some action, finally. I bet you've been waiting for that, huh? Any guesses how HYDRA found them?


	8. Functional

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> begins with some elaboration on the action scene where we left off, though nothing too graphic  
> ends with ...well  
> also a little bit of cursing, like ...3 words total

The Soldier was relieved to find that he was not too compromised for his carefully trained reflexes to kick in. in fact it should have probably slightly frightened him how easy it was to slip back into fighting mode, and it would have had it not been so damn comforting and familiar. He’d heard the thugs enter before Agent Reeves even stirred, and had already brought down four in the hallway and was in the process of snapping the neck of a fifth when her yelling his name caught his attention. He was distracted just long enough for a remaining attacker to jump him from the shadows and jam something into his arm that made him topple into the nearest wall. He felt the electrical shocks from the circuitry run all the way up, through the scar tissue and into his spine. He let out a low growl and dislodged first the faceless HYDRA thug, then the object. His metal fingers twitched a moment, the translation of nervous impulses into wires jammed and the weight on his left side suddenly dropped like a so many pounds of dead meat. He sensed the numbness running along the mechanical joints, quickly recalculated, and turned to favoring the other hand for offing the remaining attackers.

Reeves was fast, just as he’d thought. Adding in that she basically fought blind at this moment, he was almost impressed. It had only been a few moments, but the feeling was already returning to his arm, though the range of movement was noticeably impaired, the pain shooting up into the tender scarred flesh grating. He grit his teeth and moved on; not the first time that he fought through pain. He used the sluggish weight of his arm to swing it into the faces of two of the thugs, ramming their noses up into their skulls, then jammed the elbow backwards, crushing the windpipe of another who had attempted to attack him from behind. Then he saw the outline of a man pointing a gun at Reeves, the barrel glinting in the few rays of moonlight filtering in. He was over there in a split second, disarming the man and shoving him headfirst into their makeshift fireplace. He allowed himself a moment of stillness to regain his breath and get his bearings, but already Reeves’ voice called out to him again, and he dropped, grabbing a knife as he rolled out of the way of her bullet slicing through the air where he’d been standing not a second prior. He saw the last man more through the shadow he cast, large as he was. He was as soundless as he was large though, creeping up behind Reeves, wire tightening between his hands. The Soldier didn’t even need to make the conscious decision to launch the knife he’d just swiped. Agent Reeves gasped as she heard it sail through the air and embed itself in her would-be killer’s throat. He dropped, finally with a sound level appropriate for a man his size, and then there was silence. Agent Reeves let out a breath when it became clear that they’d managed to wipe out the entirety of the force sent after them, then sprang into action without missing a beat. There’d be more when this contingent didn’t report back.

Now they were trekking through the Virginian undergrowth , the sun beginning to rise. He hadn’t slept at all. She had only slept a few hours, and not well either judging by the way she tossed and turned and by the shadows forming under her eyes.

“How the actual _fuck_ did those _damn wankers_ find us in the first place?” Agent Reeves groused, slashing at the foliage irritably. For the first time since leaving the abandoned farm house, she looked back at him properly, as if wanting to demand an answer, then stopped dead in her tracks, eyes widening.

“Why didn’t you say you were hurt you absolute walnut???”

He blinked once, dumbly, befuddled by the odd choice of swear before it dawned on him that the woman’s accusation meant that he’d done something wrong. Then he became terrified. He flinched back when she stomped the few strides over to where he stood. He knew what his handlers usually did to him when he failed in any way.

Before he knows it the Soldier finds himself backed into a tree, Reeves yanking at his jacket with a scowl on her face. The bark is rough but oddly warm against his back, and his heart is pounding in his chest and his breathing is shallow and he feels like bursting from the effort of not showing the dread he feels. Reeves yanked the jacket away to reveal a tear in his shirt underneath, just beneath the ribcage. One of the attackers must have slashed at him, but when she inspects the wound further she finds it already scabbing over though the blood that has seeped into the shirt is barely dry. Then she shifts her attention to the huge tear on the upper arm of his left sleeve, where a section of the metal plates that make up the casing of his arm have been damaged, the material bent inwards and singed a little. It explains why the movement of the arm is more sluggish, he supposes, and why random sparks of electricity run up through his shoulder every so often.

Agent Reeves sighed a long-suffering sigh, but her scowl softened a bit and she backed up some, giving him space.

“This will need some looking at.” She decreed, tapping his torn sleeve, “Better find ourselves some tools for that. Next time you say when you’re injured. No needless heroics. I can’t lug you around if you keel over from blood loss or something like that, big guy.”

The Soldier gulped, understanding beginning to dawn on him. There would, inexplicably, be no punishment forthcoming, at least not at the moment. He didn’t quite trust the peace yet, though. He squared his shoulders defiantly, tugging at his torn sleeve.

“Unit functional.” He declared blankly. Agent Reeved narrowed her eyes at him, contemplating calling him out on his shit, but deciding she was too tired to argue with the most dangerous assassin of the previous century right now.

“Whatever, mate. Come on.”

\--- --- ---

They skirted around the populated areas mostly. Tess made a little pit stop at a small town shop to purchase a selection of tools, glad for that engineering and mechanics course she’d once taken at SHIELD Academy. Barnes was still silently moping by the same tree she’d left him at, looking like he hadn’t moved a muscle in the whole 20 minutes she was gone. She could feel he was suspicious of her, and admittedly she’d come on a bit strong when she’d seen the blood on his shirt.

She shook the thought out of her head for now. They had bigger things to worry about, like how HYDRA had known where they were and apparently been well enough prepared to attack them when they’d been most vulnerable. The two of them had been sitting ducks in that rickety old farm house. Its whole value as a hide-out had been its remoteness. Did HYDRA tap into satellite feeds? Insight had been working with DNA comparison of some sort, maybe the system was still running?

It was nothing she could answer right now, all that was left was to make good of the time they had. It was late morning when Tess finally decided to stop for a break. She had Barnes sit on a tree stump on a clearing that would have to have been called idyllic, if you had the leisure to think about such things and weren’t being hunted down by a murderous terrorist cult. She quickly gulped down a protein bar and some water, giving Barnes something to eat and drink as well, before getting out the newly bought tools. He tensed visibly, but obeyed when she asked him to remove his jacket and shirt. Then she set to work.

The metal fingers were twitching and the whirring of the arm had become gradually louder until she couldn’t ignore it any more. She gave Barnes a pointed look.

“What’s up with that now?”

“Unit functional.” He protested coldly, in his robot voice. Tess decided that she hated the robot voice. Really, really hated it. At least he was talking at all.

“Doesn’t look functional to me.” As if on cue, the fingers started twitching more wildly, a trickle of sparks flying from in between them.

“Functionality impaired.” The Soldier conceded grudgingly, sensing that he couldn’t get out of this one. Tess reached for the next tool.

He hissed when she pried the bent plating from his arm. Her head snapped up in alarm.

“I’m sorry. Can you actually feel this?” She hadn’t exactly been gentle, couldn’t be with the way the metal was warped and wedged in on itself. But she hadn’t considered that his cybernetic limb might be wired to allow sensation. He exhaled slowly, deliberately.

“Pressure. Damage registers.” He said clippedly, biting down slightly on his lower lip.

“Damage registers.” Tess repeated, computing this. “It registers as pain, doesn’t it.” He nodded mutely, drawing another breath.

“Sorry,” she muttered apologetically. “I’ll be more careful now.”

 

“What’s this?” Tess said, removing a small and slightly dented chip from within the wirings of his cybernetic arm. “Looks like a tracker.”

“It is.” He confirmed simply. Tess’ eyes hardened. Of course, of course! Why hadn’t she thought of that? Stupid, stupid, stupid. That’s how HYDRA found them. Of course they wouldn’t let their most prized weapon run around without a way to keep tabs on him.

“Are there more?”

He nodded.

“How many?”

He shrugged uneasily, wincing when the movement tugged at his still slightly bruised ribs. She sighed, eyeing the metal plates of his arm wearily.

“I’m going to have to take this apart to find out, won’t I?” Another affirmative nod. Tess took a deep breath, resigning herself to the task.

“Sorry.” She whispered again, gently. “I suppose that won’t exactly be comfortable for you?” He gave her a grim look, then winced slightly as he moved his other arm and pressed on a small, inconspicuous plate on his wrist, pushing it inward and giving it a little twist. His arm whirred for a second before the remaining plates lifted, ready to be folded away and reveal the inner wiring.

“Couldn’t have showed me that trick before, could you?” she grumbled, only a tad annoyed.

“Doesn’t work when there’s jamming.” He quipped, almost casually, indicating the area underneath his shoulder where she’d had to wrench the damaged plating away forcibly.

“Well that’s just dumb.” She huffed, “Shoddy engineering. I’d demand a refund.”

 

She found no less than three more trackers in his arm, one just above the wrist, one beneath the elbow (that one was fried though) and one in his shoulder, tacked firmly into the remaining bone of his shoulder blade. She carefully tucked them away, planning to use them to throw any pursuing agents off their trail, if only temporarily.

“Are those all?” she asked. Barnes’ brows furrowed in deep thought.

“I don’t know.” He admitted after a while, but he seemed to be thawing up a bit again, Tess noted with a certain relief. She looked at the small chips she already removed. The last one had made a slight bump under his skin. If there were more and they were of the same kind she should be able to find them.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to strip.” She decreed, trying to keep a straight face. The success rate could have been more satisfying on that one though.

James looked at Agent Reeves blankly, taking in her slight blush wordlessly until she explained how she meant to check for more trackers. That made sense, he supposed. Since his shirt was already off, he stooped to undo his shoes and take off the socks, then the pair of jeans. When he made to slip out of his underwear Agent Reeves stopped him, now truly red-faced.

“I think you can do that yourself. I’ll just check where you can’t see, back, neck, head…”

He smirked at her, flushing so intensely that the tips of her ears turned red. She huffed and told him to sit since she wasn’t tall enough to reach everywhere she needed while he stood.

She checked conscientiously, running her small hands across his scalp methodically but with the gentlest of pressures, the continuing that treatment down his neck and back. Her hands were still gentle, always gentle, and he felt himself relax. They didn’t find any more trackers anywhere on his body, thankfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick question, how does the cherished audience feel about smut?  
> coz I kinda wanna include smut later on but I'v never published any, so this would be a first  
> or if you have any other comments...


	9. Shiver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, sorry for the long wait but somehow inspiration was hard to come by. also is mentioning sex the only way to get you to talk to me? or is it asking questions in general? is it bribery to mention that feedback has a way of furthering inspiration for me? coz you know it's not like I don't appreciate the subscriptions and kudos, but I like to engage with my audience

James looked down at his arm with an expression of disdain. A handful of plates from the casing hadn’t made it, leaving an unsightly gash in the metal construction. Agent Reeves had been able to fix the thankfully not so very serious damage rather well, but with those plates rendered unusable, it left the delicate inner mechanics of the arm vulnerable. Of course Agent Reeves had an idea for that, too. But even if it was just a provisory, he didn’t like it.

“Duct tape?”

“Don’t disrespect the tape, mate.” She rebutted, voice muffled as she used her teeth to tear off the end, then smoothed the tape over his bicep. “Now, come on, we mustn’t tarry.”

She sounded different, a Central-Eastern British accent - reminiscent of the southern Midlands with a hint of London if he had to guess. He slipped on his shirt again, confused by the sudden change in her inflection. With his handlers, he wasn’t allowed to speak unless spoken to, but it was slowly beginning to sink in that Agent Reeves was not, in fact, the next in a long line of handlers. Still, this detail made him suspicious. He debated just ignoring it, knowing that he couldn’t.

“Who do you sound British all of a sudden?” he had tried to make it sound casual, but to his chagrin the question came out rather defensive.

“Went to school there for a few years. St. Magdalene’s School for Girls, from fourteen to eighteen.” Agent Reeves answered, unperturbed and switching between an American and a British accent effortlessly, as if to illustrate. “Besides, two of my grandparents were from there. I’m as American as you, but sometimes it bleeds through.”

He scoffed, pacified for the moment. He didn’t feel very American, and his brain supplies the thought in accent-free Russian, as if to make a point. He shook his head unwillingly. Whether or not he trusted this woman was a question for when they were not sitting in a forest with Hydra trackers in their pockets. And so far, Agent Reeves hasn’t given him any reason not to trust her. Then again he’d just had everything he thought he knew collapse around him.

They made it to the next bigger town with a train connection, sore and hungry after only the handful of protein bars Tess had in her backpack. No sign of Hydra. Tess located the security cameras and made a show of purchasing two tickets to Denver. The relatively short ride on the connecting train that would bring them from the provincial stop to the next bigger station was tense, but uneventful. Once there, they took care to board the train to Denver in full view of the cameras without it looking deliberate, deposited the trackers in a trash can there, and hightailed out of there before the train departed.

“This should give us some time to drop off the grid.” Tess said while they snuck back off the platform. Barnes hadn’t said a word unless prompted and looked like death warmed up. She really needed to get them both to a safe place and somehow persuade him to get some shut-eye. Genetically enhanced he might be, but every human needs sleep.  
Luckily she had a safe house in mind. It was fully furnished and stocked as far as she knew, and only a handful of people besides herself knew it existed, all of whom could be trusted not to sell the location out, some of whom were dead anyway. A small but lovely cabin in the woods, far enough from any civilian life to stay undetected. It was perfect. It was also, unfortunately, in Pennsylvania.

They boarded another train that would take them as close as possible to the location, but they’d be travelling a while yet. Around eighteen hours to be exact, and that was just the train part of the journey. Tess groaned inwardly. She was tired, and felt sticky and gross from their trek through the undergrowth. She hadn’t brushed her teeth since the previous morning and breath mints only went so far in alleviating the icky feeling in her mouth. Barnes wouldn’t be faring much better, personal hygiene wise, but if it bothered him he had a way of not letting it show. Though she supposed that with what Hydra had done to him, a day or two without showering wasn’t too high on his list of issues. Indeed he had been staring blankly at a spot somewhere to the side of her head for a worryingly long time now, eyes drooping ever so often only for him to start every so often, snapping them open again.

“You could take a nap, you know.” Tess suggested, nudging his foot under the table.

“I’m fine.” He insisted, mouth set in a thin, defensive line. Tess sighed.

“You haven’t slept in at least three days now. Three very exhausting, stressful days I might add. Look, I know this,” she made a sweeping gesture around the train carriage, “Isn’t ideal, but we’re not getting out of here anytime soon. You might as well use the time to rest a little.”

He gave a petulant head shake, which was somewhat countered by the yawn that accompanied it. Tess smirked in muted triumph, earning herself a glare. Not one minute later and Barnes jolted upright in his seat again.

“Come on, it’s my turn to keep watch. I’ll wake you as soon as I notice even the slightest thing.” She coaxed, taking his right hand and squeezing it lightly.

“That’s not what I’m most concerned about.” He said lowly, frowning at her smaller hand on his as if he doubted it was really there. Tess needed a moment to comprehend his meaning, but when she did she gently rubbed her thumb over his knuckles, the way her mother used to do.

“I’ll wake you in case you have a nightmare or something like that, too. Promise.”

“No.” And that was that, apparently. Tess had half a mind to argue, but her instincts told her that most of his resistance stemmed from not wanting to be told what to do. With anyone else she would have argued until she got her way, but in this case she stopped herself. It would only put a strain on their relationship if she persisted. Besides, judging by the way his head was dropping again he’d be properly asleep within the hour anyway. Probably.

“Fine. Suit yourself.” She said simply, resuming her looking out the window at the passing landscape.

To his credit, Barnes did indeed manage not to fall asleep for more than five minutes at a time. Seems like Tess had underestimated the effects of his training and serum enhancement. That or his sheer stubbornness. In fact it was her that had fallen into a light slumber around two hours out of Pittsburgh, jolting awake when Barnes nudged her shoulder timidly. From there it was still a way to go, a bit more than a hundred miles. Not a distance that either of them was able to manage on foot at this point. Tess used her fake ID to rent a car (no use ‘borrowing’ and getting a warrant issued), which would shorten the rest of the journey to just a little over two hours. Barnes looked even worse than he had the entire train ride. Tess wondered whether the only reason he hadn’t thrown up again so far was that his stomach hadn’t been full enough. As soon as they arrived she’d put her foot down and send him to bed. Possibly after a hearty snack.

No, definitely after a hearty snack. Her stomach felt like it was a minute away from digesting itself. Barnes didn’t say anything, but he appeared suspiciously fast after she’d rummaged through the pantry and cupboards in search of something that would be both filling and quickly prepared.

“No puking this out again.” She said with mock sternness between hasty mouthfuls.

“No promises.” He smirked wryly, clearly pacing himself from just devouring it all as fast as humanly possible, as she was currently doing. At last he had some color to his cheeks again.

Tess allowed herself to smile back. They were in an unknown location with enough supplies to last them up to two weeks, the perimeter was secured and the security system armed, they had food and shelter and a proper good night’s sleep that may or may not extend into the early afternoon to look forward to. Oh, and a shower. And actual bathroom with a tub and hot water. Tess itched to get out of her sticky, sweaty clothes.

Tess should have known it was too good to keep. Barnes had seemingly given up on his petty rebellion and obliged happily when she suggested he shower and rest, and after her own quick wash-down under the deliciously hot water, she felt like a person reborn. She quickly put fresh covers on the beds in the two bedrooms and aired them out while he was in the bathroom. She was just zipping up the last pillowcase when she heard the floorboards behind her shift and creak ever so slightly.

“If you’re okay with taking this room I’ll be just across the hall.” She said, stretching over the bed and propping the pillow up on the headboard before turning to face him. He stood in the doorway hesitantly, with only a towel wrapped around his hips, all previous bruising only visible as faint shadows across his smooth skin at this point, if at all. And he’d cut his hair, or tried to. Frankly, it looked like he’d hacked it off with a knife, which was probably the case. He raked one hand through the much shorter tresses nervously, rubbing his newly exposed neck as if to shield it.

“I tried to… I thought if I…” he began before trailing of, brows furrowing in frustration. Where he’d looked drained and pallid he seemed almost feverish now, eyes glazed over and a high flush under his skin. Tess prayed it was only the exertion of the previous days.

“We’ll figure it out in the morning, alright? There’s time enough once we’re both back at the top of our game.”

He looked at her a long moment, then nodded sagely and peered suspiciously at the soft mattress. Tess nudged one of the bags, which she’d put down by the foot of the bed, towards him.

“There should be something comfy in here that you can wear. Good night-“

“Sleep tight.” He replied absently. Tess smiled softly and left. She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

 

It felt like she’d barely slept at all when she heard someone barrel into the bathroom, which was right next to the one she’d claimed, and retch noisily. She shot up, feeling a mixture of drowsy, annoyed and concerned, and padded over. James was hunched over the toilet, shoulders quaking under a fine sheen of cold sweat. His skin was clammy when she reached him, and he was panting heavily, breaths coming out ragged and raw. He barely budged when she attempted to move him into an upright position. It was just like lugging the Captain’s body along the shore of the Potomac, but she’d managed that and somehow she managed this, even though her tired muscles protested. She propped him up against the small stretch of wall between the toilet and the sink. He groaned, eyelids fluttering shut under pinched brows. His pulse was racing under her fingertips.

“James,” she said urgently, framing his face with both hands and angling his head so he could breathe a little easier, “James, can you hear me?”


	10. Hanging off a Cliff while the Ground burns beneath your Feet

His head was spinning so violently that he considered it a feat to have made it not only out of the room but across the hall and into the bathroom. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, not really, and the bed had been far too soft, but in the end he had been up since they unfroze him almost a week prior. Usually he knew his physical limits, but usually there was a steady flow of chemicals into his bloodstream. He would have to reassess his capabilities as soon as the world stopped spinning around him; as soon as he wasn’t too consumed with nausea and the pounding in his head. His stomach felt like it had developed sentience and the urgent need to crawl out of his body. There were flashes of falling before his inner eye, of blinding white and seeping red and the dizzying sensation of rushing through nothing towards a something he could not name but instinctively dreaded. He couldn’t recall ever having been in such an unfunctional state before.

He’d rolled out of the sweat-dampened sheets, hissing when he banged his knees on the hardwood floor. The way to the door he found by dragging himself away from the moonlight flooding in through the window, not because he presently had the mental faculties to orientate himself from memory. He pulled himself up by the doorframe, nearly ripping out the handle when the door swung inward as he grabbed it. His vision was growing fuzzy, slipping in and out of focus as he managed the two steps across the narrow hallway and into the bathroom, where he stumbled to his knees again. He found the toilet bowl not a second too soon. Emptying his roiling stomach did little to alleviate his overall state, but it was a start. His throat and chest felt tight. He winced when the light was suddenly switched on, screwing his eyes shut in reflex. There was, for only a split-second, and image of frosted glass in front of his inner eye. But he was awake already; the light didn’t mean what it usually did. He tried sucking in air with all his might and yet it never seemed to be enough.

The blood was rushing through his ears, heart hammering itself raw on his ribs. There were small, strong hands tugging him into an upright position, which made breathing a little easier. Next the hands were cupping his face, small and gentle, but decisive. Someone was calling his name. He tried to answer, but all that came out was a low, pained groan.

\--- --- ---  
Barnes was too out of it to respond properly. Whatever chemical mixtures they’d put him under at HYDRA were wearing off quickly and without more coming in his body was going through withdrawal, and not like anything she’d ever seen. With his enhanced metabolism it would hopefully be over sooner than usual, but there were so many unknown factors that Tess frankly just didn’t know what to expect. And she wasn’t really prepared to deal with the fallout. Sure. She’d had some medical training, mostly as it pertained to quick measures for treating injuries in the field – but people could die from withdrawal symptoms. Seizures and even strokes were a possibility, as well as heart attacks. Tess prayed that of the man could survive a fall of several hundred feet he’d pull through this. She’d hate having to inform the Captain that his friend made it through decades worth of torture just to die in a cabin in the Pennsylvanian woods because his heart gave out.

Speaking of whom, she ought to make contact and ensure Captain Rogers’ safety, maybe arrange an extraction for Barnes and herself. It had been a couple of days now and no response from Hill had come through.

Tess stabilized Barnes as best she could, lugging his heavy frame back into the bed, setting some water and a plastic cup on the nightstand and a bucket beside the bed in case he threw up again. Then she went downstairs for the medical supplies and a cup of coffee. She would need it.

Barnes’ state was unchanged when she returned some minutes later, except that he’d pushed the sheets she’d draped over his shivering body back down, which left him bare-chested, cold sweat glistening on his skin. His eyes were wide open but glazed over, unseeing as he stared into the middle distance. He still didn’t react when she called out to him, or when she cautiously wiped his tense brow with a damp washcloth. Tess took a deep gulp of the pure, black coffee, grimacing at the bitterness of it, then plopped down on the bed next to Barnes’ trembling figure and dug out her phone. The Captain wasn’t the only one she had to inquire after, either.

The line connected and there was a ringing sound on the other side, but no one picked up for what seemed to her like quite a while. Barnes stirred next to her, giving low groans every now and then. His breathing was shallow and labored, and he kicked off the covers whenever Tess attempted to draw them up again, so she gave up after the fifth or sixth try. Still waiting for Hill to answer her call, she tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder and set to adjusting the pillows so Barnes could breathe more easily, eyes nervously darting towards the medical supplies box on the ground – she hoped it wouldn’t come to having to shove a tube down his throat.

“Who is that? How do you have this number?” a stern voice suddenly sounded in Tess’ ear, nearly making her jump.

“This is codename Cuckoo. Refer to Aquila Protocol, Operation Birdstrike.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then some rustling and the sound of a handful of clicks before Maria Hill spoke again.

“The line is secure. Reeves, is that you?” Tess breathed a sigh of pure relief. She nodded, then remembered the other woman couldn’t see the gesture and spoke.

“Yes, it’s me. Did you get my message two days ago?” More rustling and clicking. Tess imagined Hill must be going through the documents left to her by Fury.

“Yes, yes. Have you apprehended…” she paused a moment, and Tess could almost see the other woman peering over the list of codenames assigned, no doubt written by hand

by the late director himself, “…Bluebird?”

Tess froze, looking down at the man next to her for a shocked second. Hill would know from the list that ‘Bluebird’ was the designated codename for the Winter Soldier, but did she know who he had been before that?

“Please, Maria, first I need to know if my family’s okay? Was Sharon…?”

She must have sounded sufficiently panicked for Hill to let her crude attempt at deflection go through without any resistance.

“Sharon was in the Triskelion, but she got out before it went down. She’s fine. Your grandma is holding up alright I think. A bit shaken, though she’d never admit it; worried for you, which she reluctantly did admit. What can I tell her?”

“I’m fine. Had a run-in with some HYDRA thugs the night after the carriers went down, but nothing that couldn’t be handled.”

“They’ll be after you now, not just because of…”

“They’ll have to find me first, and I don’t intend to make it easy for them.” Tess cut the other woman off, turning away slightly from Barnes whose eyes had fluttered shut, “But there’s only so much running one can do. Which of SHIELD’s facilities have been compromised?”

“Tess… Teresa, SHIELD is gone.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth to stop something (an anguished wail? A string of curses? Her last meal?) from escaping.

“Teresa?”

“…Gone?” Tess echoed thinly. It couldn’t be, there had to be… that organization was her life’s purpose, the ideals it stood for-

“Teresa? Agent Reeves?”

“How?” Hill breathed heavily on the other side of the line, clearly debating whether or not her colleague could handle that information.

“Captain’s orders.”

“Captain Rogers?” Tess asked, her voice faltering. Barnes shifted slightly on the mattress, groaning lowly. For a terrible moment Tess regretted having driven the Captain to the hospital, having helped in saving his life.

“Tess, it was rotten to the core. I’m going over Fury’s files as we speak. You and the other Birdstrike agents know this better than anyone. And it’s not just SHIELD, either. Pretty much every agency in the world has been infiltrated. KGB then FSB, CIA, MI-5 and 6, RAW and ISI, MSS, the BND, even the goddamn Mossad*. They’re everywhere, don’t even get me started on all the government contacts. It’s like a testament of importance to have a minister or senator or what-have-you who’s on HYDRA’s payroll.”

“And yet only SHIELD had to burn.” Tess decreed bitterly. Hill sighed, but remained silent.

“Why, Maria? Why did he burn my legacy to the ground without sparing a thought…”

“Teresa …Tess, have you acquired Bluebird?” Hill’s voice was almost gentle. Tess confirmed that she had with a quiet voice, the pieces beginning to slide into place however much she tried to fight this particular revelation. She tried not to resent Barnes; humming along numbly while Hill informed her that with SHIELD gone they were on their own until she could secure a place of refuge, that Captain Rogers was expected to make a full recovery and would be discharged from the hospital the following day. Hill herself was headed for New York the day after.

“I’ll be in contact.” The former deputy director concluded. “Stay safe.”

\--- --- ---

James held on to the sound of a voice close to him. It was soft and quiet, occasionally brittle with raw emotion. When he opened his eyes he saw things that rationally he knew could not be there, and when he closed his eyes those things came to haunt him, and he was too weak to run or fight back. So he held on to that voice, despairing whenever it cut off, leaving him floating. It was either too soft or he too out of it to understand what was being said; the owner of the voice might have been speaking to him for all he knew.

And then it stopped completely. He made a low sound in the back of his throat that might have been a whine. The surface he was laying on shifted slightly, and then there were a few shuffling footsteps. His heart was still pounding, but no longer racing. He tried to focus on that instead, using the rhythm of his own heartbeat to ground him. When it faltered or sped up every now and then, he couldn’t tell whether his perception was off or not. Until it stopped. Completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *KGB and FSB - Russian Intelligence Agencies, past and present  
> RAW - Research and Analysis Wing, India  
> ISI - Inter-Services Intelligance, Pakistan  
> MSS - Ministry of State Security, Republic of China  
> BND - Bundesnachrichtendienst, Germany  
> and you all know the other ones, aka my research for this part was literally googling 'secret services of the world' and then copying off like the first three 'Top 10' lists in the results
> 
> as for the withdrawal, I did some research and incorporated the most common symptoms, but since I draw all my medical knowledge from Grey's Anatomy and this is no ordinary withdrawal, I am taking some liberties and otherwise leaving it purposefully vague
> 
> does anyone have any guesses about Tess' family? I'm trying to drop some hints, but I don't wanna give it away yet. Then again I'm sure you're smart enough to solve this riddle.


	11. Resuscitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls don't hate me for the way I ended the last chapter

Okay, this was bad. On top of the general direction her life had taken recently, namely towards a final destination that was no doubt called ‘Absolute Irredeemable Shitpile’, this was still really bad. This was the ‘Fuck-You’-Cherry on top of that pile.

“Your timing leaves room for improvement.” Tess muttered absently while digging the emergency defibrillator out of the medical kit. She nudged his still form with her elbow, still foolishly hoping that she’d been wrong and he’d just stir, maybe grumble a bit. No dice. And no heartbeat. Just as there had been before she’d tried manually, straddling the unconscious man and pressing down on his ribcage.

“Don’t do this to me.” She urged, setting up the defibrillator. It hummed faintly, electricity crackling through the wires and buzzing around the paddles she placed on his chest.

“Don’t you fucking dare die on me now; I swear…”

The charge went through his body, lifting him half off the mattress for a moment. The mechanics in his arm whirred softly as the electricity went through it. No pulse. Tess cursed and reset the machine, selecting a higher charge.

“I swear if you do this to me I will personally come down to the afterlife and drag your sorry ass back here. You know what happens if you don’t make it? I’ll have to stand before Captain fucking ‘my mere presence is such a beacon of virtue and righteousness that you ordinary mortals shudder in awe’ Rogers and tell him I let his buddy die, and then I’ll have to change my name again and denounce my family and probably move to a cave in Nepal or something and live in shame for the rest of my days and let me tell you, sweetheart, I’m young and healthy, so that’s gonna be quite a lot of days and I am so not here for any of that so.you.better.fucking.pull.yourself.together.right.now!”

Tess had been ranting angrily at him, all the while recharging the machine, administering shocks and increasing the charge until it was at maximum. The skin where she placed the paddles was an angry red by now, but whenever she bent down to check for a heartbeat there was none. She was growing desperate. The sound of continually charging and discharging electricity was indelibly etched into her mind’s ear.

“Don’t die on me. I got you out of HYDRA, out of the city and all the way here to safety. Don’t you dare die on me now.” Tess placed the paddles to his skin one more time. Her voice was hoarse and brittle, quiet where she had been yelling before. They were running out of time. She was losing hope.

“Please.” She pleaded and sent one last charge through. The electricity surged through his body, his back arched off the sheets, the arm whirred lowly – all as before. And as before there was no sign of life; no movement or fluttering eyelids, not even a groan. Tess bent her head down, searching for a pulse. Her hands shook too badly to feel for one properly, so she placed her weary head on his chest, right over his heart. The skin was still hot against her cheek where the paddle had burned it.  
If he died now it would all have been for nothing.

\--- --- ---

James came back to the sensation of pressure on his chest. He also felt like he’d been run over by a particularly large and heavy tank, but most prominent was the small weight just over his heart, not even enough to be uncomfortable. Something tickled his skin.

“Oh thank god…” the same voice from before spoke, sounding infinitely relieved before hardening again, becoming something stern and fearful. “Don’t ever pull shit like that again, you hear?”

He could only groan. The small burst of laughter that answered him sounded almost hysterical. He tried to crack his eyes open, but when he did even the dim light was blinding, so he screwed them shut again with a low hiss. He tried to speak, but his mouth was drier than sandpaper

“Rest.” The voice ordered, softer again. Someone held a cup to his lips and helped him raise his head enough to drink. Then he drifted off again into a dreamless slumber.

\--- --- ---

Tess allowed herself a moment to just breathe and tune out each and every thought, like May had taught her when the older agent had been her SO. She looked down at Barnes’ still form, chest rising and falling innocently, as if the very thought of this not being the case was completely absurd.

“Wanker.” She muttered under her breath to no one in particular, then plugged in the defibrillator to recharge just in case. The rest of her coffee was cold by now, but there was more downstairs in the kitchen so she went to refill her cup. It wasn’t as if she would be sleeping any more that night. She took her refilled cup back upstairs, checked that Barnes was actually still breathing, and made a final attempt at tucking him in since the nighttime chill was setting in. He was out like a light, the slight burns on his torso already faded to a light pink, brow pinched but not as severely as before. Tess propped up a spare pillow against the headboard and sat down, tucking her feet under the blankets. She had a lot to think about. Like what she was going to do with the unstable man whose life she just saved now that there was no safe place for them to go.

\--- --- ---

When James woke the first thing he saw was light, and instinctively panicked. Usually when his mind emerged from such a complete blackness it meant that they had thawed him up again to do their bidding. Always with a bright light shining into his eyes, blinding him. Next would be rough hands jostling his stiff body out of the cryo-chamber. Then the water; an industrial strength flow alternating between freezing cold and scorching hot to get his metabolism going. His skin prickled at the memory. He knew the drill, had learnt the hard way that there was no point resisting.

But they had to see, didn’t they, that he was not functional. His head was throbbing viciously, his whole body weary and drained. He couldn’t so much as lift a finger without pain shooting through him. Of course, his handlers wouldn’t think this too much of a problem. He anticipated the needle piercing the skin in the crook of his elbow, the steady trickle of whatever concoction that would dull his aches and his mind and return him to a state of functionality. He almost welcomed it.

So he waited, resigned. And waited. And waited until he’d counted through ten whole minutes in his head. By now it was clear even to him that something was off. He dared open his eyes fully and was met with the sight of dark wooden planks instead of the inside of a lab.

The light was sunlight, filtering in through rustling curtains, not the harsh neon glare commonplace in HYDRA’s underground facilities. He was lying down, on sheets, on a mattress, a blanket drawn up to cover his legs and a pillow under his head. Unless HYDRA had suddenly discovered their hospitable streak he was somewhere else entirely. Where exactly might be a whole lot easier to recall if his head wasn’t spinning so madly.

“Never a moment’s peace with you, is there?” a voice called softly from where he assumed the doorframe was. Female, between twenty and forty, guarded tone underneath one of mock reproach. He recognized the pitch and cadence. He had held onto that voice last night when the world seemed to slip away from him, or he from it. It was frustrating not being able to reach back far enough into his memory to know who she was and how he’d come to be where he was now; a side effect of the wipes was that his short term memory tended to cut out under stress. This usually wasn’t a problem because he was rarely out of cryo long enough to have much use for it. How long had he been out of cryo?

The mattress dipped where the woman sat down at his side. He flinched weakly. If she noticed she didn’t let on. He watched her warily but all she did was check his vitals and help him drink some water. Her dark curls and freckled face seemed distinctly familiar, but trying to dredge up the knowledge of how, who, where hurt his head so badly he had to give up eventually. Maybe once this horrid headache abated he’d be able to recall that.

“Rest.” The woman said kindly, drawing up the blanket so it covered his shoulders.

“What happened?” he ground out, shivering despite the covers. She dabbed at his forehead with a damp cloth, mouth set in a hard line for a moment.

“Your heart stopped last night.” She admitted after a moment of inner debate. “I think the worst is behind us now but you should rest. I’ll bring you something to eat in a bit.”

James sank back against the pillow, too weary to react much.

“Thank you.” He replied quietly, already drifting off.


	12. Nesting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tess is being a bit potty mouthed again in this; she tends to do that

The following day, James felt clearer than he could ever remember being. He still felt drained and exhausted, but it was as if a fog had been lifted from his mind. The edges of the world were sharper around him, his eyes keener and his thoughts more agile, freer. It was the slightest bit overwhelming but in a way that he welcomed.

“More than 24 hours without throwing up – this is a new record.” Agent Reeves quipped when he dragged his wobbly legs and growling stomach downstairs into the kitchen, mug of coffee in hand and deep, dark circles under bloodshot eyes. She had paled visibly; nursing him had taken its toll on her. Not like she’d let it show, already getting up to dig through the cupboards for breakfast.

She made porridge, so as not to upset his stomach presumably. It was bland yet filling and she nearly fell face first into her bowl a couple of times.

“You haven’t slept.” James stated matter-of-factly. Agent Reeves snorted, head propped up on her hand and elbow on the table.

“No shit. You wanna know how much coffee I’ve had so far?”

“How much coffee did you have?” he asked dutifully between scraping the last bits of porridge from his bowl.

“This is my third cup today, if we count from midnight. Before that… let’s not delve into that. It does nothing to me anymore.” As if to punctuate this statement, her elbow slipped and she only just caught herself before acquiring a black eye from smashing into the table. Reeves made a face and reached for her coffee mug, only to find it empty.

“Fuck this.” She muttered flatly.

“You should rest now.” James dared suggest, because it was clear as the lovely sunny day outside that this woman was exhausted both physically and mentally, and since he knew this was due to her taking care of him he felt more than a bit guilty.

Her eyes were already drooping again, but of he’d learned anything about Teresa Reeves in these past few days it was that her will was strong while he was only just discovering that he had one. It wouldn’t be easy to convince the woman, but he’d give it a good shot. He wasn’t used to arguing or even demanding; it took a conscious effort for him to formulate the words.

In any case he has enough sense to know that he should at least try to butter her up a bit beforehand.

“I’m sorry,” he began tentatively, twirling the spoon between his fingers.

“What for?” Agent Reeves asked, voice slurring.

“I should have told you about the trackers. It’s my fault they found us.”

Reeves gave him a long measured look before replying.

“Did you know?”

“…What?”

“Did you know that there were trackers in your arm?”

“I …no. Not really, no.”

She rolled her shoulders and grinned, which threw him for a loop. He really wasn’t used to this lenient approach.

“Figures. It’s not the kind of information you’d have needed to know. In any case I should have thought of it, so that’s on me.”

James sat in stunned silence for a moment, until a deep yawn from her prompted him to snap back to attention. He rose and collected their dishes, taking them to the sink to rinse. It was a testament to just how tired Agent Reeves must have been that she made no attempt to stop him, only calling after him softly as he went.

“Just don’t pull any more shit like that stunt yesterday; I’m an agent, not a doctor.” She ended with a small chuckle, which he marked up to her exhaustion since he found nothing humorous in the statement. Sleep deprivation could do strange things to a person’s mind, he knew. Random laughter was one of the milder symptoms.

When he returned to the table, fully prepared to argue his case so well that she would have no choice but go to sleep, he found her already dozed off, head cushioned on her forearms. James allowed himself a moment to smile in muted triumph, then carefully picked her up and carried her upstairs to her room, gently placing her on the bed and pulling up the blankets. She barely stirred when she was moved, only nuzzled her head into his shoulder as he carried her up the stairs bridal style.

\--- --- --- 

Tess awoke disoriented, not remembering having gone to sleep in the first place. She was still dressed in the sweats and t-shirt she’d been wearing since their arrival at the cabin, but she was in the bed in the room she’d claimed with no memory of getting there.

She felt a lot better, there was no denying that, though a hot shower and a thorough brushing of her teeth would go even further towards that. But first she had to find Barnes and figure out how she got there. And what time it was now. It looked to be early afternoon, but her rhythm had been thrown off center so severely she couldn’t tell with any certainty unless she consulted a clock. The few that were inside the house weren’t accurate for not having been used in so long, and her phone would still be downstairs where she left it. With a groan, Tess swung her legs over the edge of the mattress and stood.

Barnes was sitting on the floor in a corner that gave him maximum cover, a gun and a collection of knives at his bare feet. The scene gave her pause, but when he raised his eyes to her upon hearing her steps they were clear and alert. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to make sure.

“You still with me, Sarge? James?”

He nodded sharply, once, then gazed at his little armory. He seemed almost bashful as he picked up the knives and slid them back into their drawer.

“You could have woken me.” Tess said, but he shook his head just as sharply as he’d nodded before.

“You needed the rest. I’m fine.”

He stood in one graceful motion, pushing a hand through his mangled hair. Ah yes, there was that, too. Tess took a discerning look at the choppy tresses and gathered up all the delicacy she was capable of to broach the subject. He seemed lost for a moment, confused what she was even referring to.

“Don’t get me wrong, it was a valiant effort, but there’s only so much one can do with a knife. Just let me straighten it out a bit so it looks halfway decent, okay?”

 

“Whose house is this?” he asked once he was sat on a stool in the bathroom with a towel draped across his shoulders. Tess paused for just a split second before answering, but it was enough to give her away.

“What makes you think it belongs to someone in particular? It could just be any safe house. Or do you doubt me and my ability to bring you somewhere safe?” as far as deflections went, this was pitiful and she knew it.

“I found something,” he said, ignoring her blunder, “It said: _To Carrie and Mike, for when you need to get away from everyone else. Howard._ Who are they?”

Tess breathed deeply, collecting herself for a moment. She didn’t want to lie to him, but she didn’t want to tell him more than absolutely necessary either.

“My parents – Carrie and Mike are …were my parents. Howard was a …friend of the family. The cabin was a wedding gift.”

“They’re dead.” James concluded flatly. Tess paused a moment, disentangling her fingers from his hair and laying the scissors aside to collect herself. It had happened when she was so little; she really ought to be over it by now.

“I suppose that means it’s technically my house now…” Maybe coming here hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Tess hadn’t expected that particular well of emotions to well up again, even though she probably should have. She took up the scissors again with a sigh.

“Let’s talk about something more gladdening. Captain Rogers got out of the hospital today. I …my contact is trying to arrange a meeting. I should hear from them soon.”

Barnes tensed immediately, the muscles in his shoulders and neck taut as a bowstring. Tess stepped away cautiously, gripping the scissors a bit more tightly.

“Hey big guy, something wrong?”

“He’s alive.” Barnes ground out between clenched teeth. The tension in the small room was palpable, so Tess took a deliberate effort in seeming unaffected.

“It was our deal that I get you to him.” she pointed out carefully.

“I thought I’d killed him. I almost killed him.” Barnes voice sounded flat. His inner turmoil was only belied by his clenched fists, one white-knuckled, one creaking and whirring faintly.

“’Almost’ being the key word here. It would appear you’re both not that easy to kill.”

For a moment, she feared that had been the wrong thing to say and already mentally calculated how long it would take her to get to the door and how much of a defense that pair of scissors could potentially be. But then Barnes deflated visibly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Tess stepped closer again, gingerly reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it, okay?”

He nodded once before retreating back into his shell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone who left a kudo, subscribed or even bookmarked^^  
> comment with your theories about Tess' family and entertain me ;)  
> or if you have other comments...


	13. Cabin Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, I know you're not obliged to, and I can't make you leave comments, I'm just saying it would be nice-

They spent the next few days holed up in the cabin. Hill didn’t call again until almost a week later, and if Tess had known the other agent any less well than she did this would have given her serious doubts. This way it only gave her mild, subtly niggling ones. When she finally did, Hill informed her that Captain Rogers had gone out in search of his long lost friend pretty much the hour he’d been released from hospital.

“And you just let him go on what is essentially a wild goose chase?” Tess questioned. Barnes hadn’t remarked upon the issue of Steve Rogers since their little talk in the bathroom, steadfastly ignoring her whenever she tried to bring it up.

“Any remaining HYDRA elements will be monitoring him, since they don’t know where you two are.”

“You’re using him as bait.” Tess realized, feeling nauseated. She had to sit down. “Is it really necessary to keep him in the dark for that?”

“He’ll come to understand the necessity in the end.” Hill decreed. She sounded very certain, but then again she was good at sounding certain even if she was not, if the situation required it. Tess massaged her temples, feeling a very confusing mixture of emotions. She didn’t like the idea of using Steve Rogers in any way, much less a way that put him in jeopardy. Then again there was a part of her that blamed him for what had happened to SHIELD, a part that wanted to see him punished for burning down her life around her, which was all kinds of irrational because hadn’t it been her who first brought her concerns to Fury and managed to convince him that the operation that would be called Birdstrike was absolutely necessary? She wondered what her grandmother would make of all this and found herself missing the woman who had basically raised her after her parents’ death even more.

At least Agent Sitwell was alive. Being thrown into oncoming traffic had done a nasty number on him and he was in a coma, but still in possession of all his limbs and his life, which was more than could be said for the other eighteen Birdstrike agents. She tried not to think too much about those carefully handpicked colleagues she condemned because she couldn’t let her personal trauma rest. Tess had been six years old when it happened, one moment she was the center of a loving family, the next both her parents and her maternal grandfather were dead. Black ice, they’d said at first, which had been a reasonable enough explanation for December. Then, as the investigation progressed possible causes for the accident were tossed around with such vivacity that it left her unconvinced it had even really been an accident to begin with. Which begged the question of who would have wanted any of the people in that car in early 1991 dead. So she’d gone and investigated, rifling through her still living grandparents’ documents whenever she could, following leads and hunting down clues. By the age of 18, Tess had been convinced that the Winter Soldier was to blame. By 24, she’d concluded that the Soldier was an asset for a hitherto unknown organization, but also that the hit on Howard and Maria Stark, their butler and driver Edwin Jarvis, and the head of Stark Industries’ legal department and her husband had been ordered and facilitated by none other than Obadiah Stane. And because Stane had been dead by then, and there were too many details that didn’t work out for her to leave it at that, she dug further and further until she’d had to face the dawning realization that Stane hadn’t acted alone, but rather in accord with said unknown organization, and that this same organization might even have planted some sleepers inside SHIELD itself. And so she had cobbled together all the evidence she’d collected so far and marched herself into Nick Fury’s private home for fear of the offices being bugged, and laid out her troubling findings. Fast forward a few years and she was sitting in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, hiding away and staring at her phone for too long after her call had disconnected. She knew it wasn’t Steve Rogers’ fault that HYDRA had corrupted SHIELD (and the rest of the world, apparently) - worse yet, she knew how her grandmother would scold her for laying the blame on any of them, Tess herself included.

It was almost absurd, how this unlikely chain of events had led to her babysitting an unstable, brainwashed assassin. Who just happened to be Bucky Barnes, in an earlier life. Whose ever growing beard was looking really very much at odds with the new, neat haircut. Whom she also probably shouldn’t be ogling as shamelessly as she did while he was chopping wood outside, in perfect view of the living area, shirtless. Good thing it was about time she went out and restocked their supplies.

\--- --- --- 

James didn’t know what to make of the woman, unsure whether his vague distrust of her was rooted in his general condition of having been lied to more often than not, or whether she really was hiding something from him. He found it difficult to figure her out; she was as conscientiously nurturing as she was distant and glib. What he did know for certain, however, was that it wasn’t always his own screams waking him up at night.

If he slept, that was. The first few days he didn’t, if he could help it. But then he was getting a serious case of cabin fever, his mind frazzling so bad that he almost longed for the fuzzy numbness of his previous, chemical-induced haze. Exercise, he found out, did the trick. He’d split logs or run or otherwise challenge himself to the point of exhaustion and in more than half of the cases he’d be tired enough to sleep yet too spent to dream much. He’d almost asked Agent Reeves to spar with him a couple of times, but whatever doubts or reservations he may hold, she still saved his life and done nothing but help him as far as he knew, and he really didn’t want to hurt her.

In any case, she was gone at the moment. Picking up new supplies from the store, she’d said. She’d put on a long blonde wig and some make-up that didn’t look like she was wearing much of it at all yet somehow managed to alter her appearance enough that she looked like a different person, impressed upon him the importance of not letting anyone in but her, and told him a code word he was supposed to ask her upon return, _before_ letting her in.

James twirled the axe until there was no more wood to chop and his back was aching, the electrical currents from his left arm buzzing from the exertion. The arm itself was almost hot to the touch. He ran the other hand through his sweaty hair, pushing it out of his face. The haircut had, surprisingly, been a great help. When he caught his reflection now he immediately recognized it as himself. And yet the mere thought of facing Steve Rogers made his heart pound in unadulterated panic. James imagined the other man would wish for his childhood friend back, which he found understandable. The thing was, at present he had no idea whether that man was still alive somewhere in the depths of his brain or whether he was irretrievably lost, and he wouldn’t set foot in front of Rogers until he had a definite answer to that question.

 

James looked from the shaving kit to Agent ‘I told you a dozen times you can call me Tess’ Reeves, then back at the kit. She shrugged uncertainly.

“It’s your choice, but you’re starting to look like one of those hipster types, or a Hell’s Angel, or some sort of gruff forest spirit.”

James waited a moment to see whether she’d come up with any more comparisons, which she didn’t. There was an old-fashioned razor blade in a drawer in the bathroom, the kind that looks like a jackknifenthat he almost remembers his own father showing him how to use. He gathered up the stuff without a word and went up the stairs, accompanied by a laconic warning not to maim himself beyond recognition, at which he scoffed. There weren’t many blades he couldn’t master, after all.

 

There weren’t many blades the former Winter Soldier couldn’t master, but a straight throat razor that was older than even he himself and made of genuine Solingen steel was apparently one of them. He sulked as Agent Reeves placed a band aid on the last of the cuts on this jaw. Maybe using his left hand hadn’t been the best idea. The grip wasn’t ideal with the metal, and the limb had glitched once, resulting in a shallow but long slash across his cheek. But his other hand had been trembling from exhaustion, the palm sore from chopping wood for the last two and a half days.

“Don’t look so smug.” He complained, crossing his arms defensively. The cuts would have healed completely by morning anyway, so this was redundant as far as he was concerned. Agent Reeves didn’t seem inclined to agree or wipe the little grin off her face.

“Why’d you take that clunky old thing anyway? It’s been through at least three generations of my family, probably four. I know for a fact Grampa Dan got it from his dad before he passed it on to my father.”

“My father had one like those.” James admitted bashfully, suddenly very interested in the pattern of tiles on the floor. He felt pathetic for hanging on to all those little details like they were driftwood and he a man drowning. It felt futile and pitiful, the desperate attempts of a machine to shroud itself in some old-fashioned concept of a human being. He’d tried to look more like Bucky Barnes in an effort to become him again, and look how grandly he’d failed.

“Hey,” Tess’ fingertips ghosting along his jaw brought him back from that particular downward spiral of thoughts, if only until the next descent. He was suddenly acutely aware of her touch, the soft texture of her skin on his. She was leaning down to him slightly, close enough that he could try to count her freckles. He lowered his gaze, only to have his chin tilted back up by her. “As they say, practice makes perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some softcore lumberjack vibes for you  
> y'know, among other things  
> this was supposed to be longer :/ that's what happens when you make the shit up as you go


	14. TARFU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, now that like 99% of Tess' story has been revealed... I'd hoped there would be more of a response tbh  
> (and I am well aware how passive agressive this sounds) the thing is: if you're a writer (or other kind of artist) yourself you probably know how much feedback means; if you aren't you're just gonna have to take my word for it  
> In any case I had quite a lot of trouble with this chapter, which is why it took so long to get out, but alas, I managed. Eventually. This is a bit longer than the last one to make up for that. And contains sort-of spoilers for Agent Carter, though not really. Not saying you have to have watched that to make sense of this story, only that it helps.

Of course it was only a matter of time before everything went to hell. Tess supposed she should be grateful that the two of them at least got the chance to regroup and recuperate some before it all went down. She didn’t even want to start imagining what might have happened had they still been on the run when James’ body shut down; she wouldn’t have been able to save him then.

As much as laying low in the cabin had made her feel like a caged animal, it had also made her complacent, lulled her into a false sense of security. Which was why she’d let worry supersede sense and attempted to rouse James from a particularly vibrant night terror.

Tess jolted awake with tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, still thoroughly shaken by the memory of a seventeen-year-old Tony Stark and herself sneaking into the room where their parents and her grandfather had been laid out during their wake. She hadn’t been allowed to go see, and since she’d still been so little she didn’t reach up far enough to look into the open caskets anyway, but with the true determination of a child she had sought out the only person who’d understand.

“You ready, squirt?” Tony had said, rubbing absentmindedly at his eyes and tugging at the too-tight collar of his dress shirt, and she’d stood there in her itchy, over starched dress and explained with a dangerously wobbling bottom lip that she wouldn’t believe it until she saw it with her own eyes. And so Tony had hoisted her up on his back until she could see.

Being back at the cabin, and with the man tossing uneasily in the next room over being who he was – it stirred up too much. Barnes screamed brokenly into the silence, louder and more agonized than she’d witnessed so far. She went over in an effort to soothe him as much as to comfort herself, which was careless.

There was a heavy thump just as she knocked on his door, followed by a pained wheeze. Tess eased the door open slowly, eyes scanning over the near darkness of the room. Barnes had fallen out of bed, half tangled in the sheets and clawing at imaginary foes. She didn’t even touch him, but he must have heard or sensed her presence even so. The soft call of his name was stopped short when something very solid connected heavily with the side of her head, throwing her off balance from her unsteady stance. She skidded across the bed from the force of the blow, ears ringing and taking the remaining blanket with her, which cushioned her fall only slightly when she slid off the mattress on the other side. She had hardly hit the floor when Barnes was already perched atop her, pinning her arms and legs down with deadly efficiency.

“James.” she gasped, oddly calm considering her current state and that fact that a metal forearm was pressing down on her windpipe. “James!”

No discernible reaction. His eyes were dark, glinting coldly in what little moonlight streamed in underneath the curtains. Her heart thumped heavily, making the blood rush through her ears loudly. Her vision began to get fuzzy around the edges.

“Bucky!” she cried with what little breath she had. The first second stretches unnaturally, and there doesn’t seem to be any reaction still, but then something flickers behind his eyes, and it’s as if the shutters fall away as he slowly comes back to reality. It takes a moment longer for him to realize their positions, and he jumps away so quickly he might as well have been sitting on glowing embers.

Tess sucked in a deep breath with relief, her first instinct to say something to reassure him that’s she’s okay, mostly just startled, but all that came out was a wheeze. A distressed noise tore itself from his throat. The guilt seeping into his mind was just about tangible. Tess quickly pulled herself up into a sitting position, swallowing thickly. Her face felt half numb and half on fire, but her fingers didn’t come away bloody when she gingerly touched them to the tender skin. There’d be some impressive bruising, maybe even a black eye, but nothing she hadn’t been through before. In fact she’d been hurt worse, but that wasn’t what he needed to hear right now.

“James?” she rasped softly, “Could you get me some ice from the cooler downstairs please? And maybe a glass of water, too.”

At first he didn’t appear to have heard her. She just contemplated repeating her request when he straightened and bolted out of the room. Tess pulled herself up further, her head swimming a bit but not so badly as to indicate a concussion. She sat down on the edge of the mattress and switched on the small bedside lamp. There was the sound of someone rummaging through drawers and cupboards in the kitchen and a moment later James returned, balancing water, ice pack and a first aid kit carefully.

“Oh, good thinking.” She praised, already reaching for the kit, but he swatted her hand away gently and handed her the glass of water instead. She took a couple of sips, the handed the cup back.

“Here, you look a bit rattled.”

\--- --- ---

James looked at the offered cup in disbelief.

“I could have killed you.” He said flatly.

“And yet I still draw breath.” She retorted drily, pushing the cup into his hand before he could protest. “Come now, ‘tis but a scratch. Not even that, actually. I’ve had much worse.”

She smiled, wincing a bit when the motion aggravated her already bruising face. He quickly grabbed the ice pack, already wrapped in a dishtowel to take the sting out of it, and placed it against her purpling cheek as gingerly as possible. It made his guilt just a smidgeon more bearable, to have the chance to right what he’d done wrong now, and he wondered whether that had been her aim in sending him for those things.

She leaned into the ice pack with a small breath of relief, eyes fluttering shut. It amazed him to no end that she would do this so casually. During the first few days they’d spent together she wouldn’t even turn her back on him for a second.

“Tessa,” He started, quietly, “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Her lips curled into a hesitant smile, mussed curls falling over her face. As always, she’d brushed her hair conscientiously before going to bed, pulling it back in a low ponytail so it would keep some semblance of order overnight. It never worked; the way she tossed and turned it would inevitably come loose at some point, leaving her with a hopelessly tangled mess in the mornings. James almost reached up to brush the unruly strands back, but stopped short when she did it herself, shoving them behind her ear unceremoniously.

“This is the first time you’ve called me by my name. Well, kinda.” She mused, eyes still closed. “No one’s called me Tessa before. I like it, I think.”

“You might have a concussion.” He countered, adjusting the ice pack gingerly.

“I don’t have a concussion, don’t flatter yourself.”

“Even so, I’m still sorry.” He insisted. Tess sighed with the slightest hint of irritation.

“Dammit, it’s not… this is really important to you, isn’t it?” she relented, leaning further into his hand, chasing after the cold’s numbing effects. She cracked her eyes open just a little to see him nod in response.

“In that case: I forgive you.” Tess smiled, lop-sided so as not to pull at her sore cheek, though the ice did help with that. “And now me: I shouldn’t have come so close in the first place. I usually know better, and now I feel bad for putting you in this situation. I’m sorry.”

He must have given her a look so laden with expression that it itched, for she shifted uneasily even with eyes still closed.

“What?” she said, vaguely defensive and moving to grip the ice pack from him so she could put more distance between them. Her eyelids fluttered open when her fingers brushed his in the process.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Take the blame. You did it with the trackers and again just now.” James counted off, feeling coddled and vexed.

“That’s two times – that hardly counts as always. You need to get your reference system in order.” She was annoyed now, he could tell. A disdainful frown had taken the place of that open, slightly drowsy expression she’d worn before. “Christ, Barnes, I was just trying to be supportive. Good night.”

Tess stood abruptly, swaying a little but swatting his hand away when it shot out to steady her. She gave him a look that could only really be described as ‘withering’ and stomped back across the hall, closing her door with a fraction more force than absolutely necessary. James looked down at the glass of water in his hand and sighed.

\--- --- --- 

Tess wasn’t proud of herself for snapping at him, she really wasn’t. Then again she had a feeling that if she were to come at him with another apology now he might actually put her head through a wall willingly. No, that was a bit harsh – and unfair; he’d seemed really shaken about what happened – but in any case she guessed he wouldn’t be pleased. It was best to leave it until morning and soften the blow with breakfast, she reckoned. Not that she found much rest in the next few hours, tossing and turning more than usual. The ice pack had gone too warm to provide any relief after a while, leaving the side of her face throbbing dully. She gave up around four am, getting dressed and checking that their packs were in order. While she didn’t expect them to have to make a run for it she also knew to expect the unexpected. Preparation had yet to fail paying off in her experience.

Tess was just in the arduous process of taming her curls when she heard noise downstairs. It was faint, no more than a little thump, then another. It might have been Barnes except for the fact that she could see him milling about in his room through the bathroom mirror, both doors being open. Then there was the unmistakable creak of the south-western window, and Barnes’s eyes met hers. The both stilled for a second before springing into action. He grabbed their packs and moved backwards down the hallway, towards the window at its end. Tess grabbed the closest things to weapons she could find, namely the accursed razor and a long nail file, before quietly inching out of the bathroom and down the hall after Barnes. A click behind her told her that he had a handgun at the ready.

“No more than five.” He whispered, aiming the gun past her and towards the stairs leading up to their floor.

“Wait till they come up.” Tess murmured back, mentally preparing herself for whatever harebrained stunt they’d be forced to perform in the next few moments. It would probably involve jumping out that window behind them, a circumstance she did not relish even though they were merely one floor off the ground.

“Open the window.” She muttered as an afterthought – smashing through the glass would only generate telltale noise – to find that Barnes had already done that. She shot him a small approving smile and gripped the handles of razor and file a bit tighter. Not that those would be of much use in an actual fight but they gave her at least a sense of security. Plus, she could get creative.

There were steps echoing up the staircase, heavy combat boots on solid wood, slowly climbing up. They weren’t SHIELD or what was possibly left of it in loyal agents or they would have identified themselves already. They also weren’t FBI, CIA, NSA or any comparable agency. They wore heavy tactical gear, even helmets. Somehow Barnes managed to get a shot in, toppling the first man up the stairs as soon as he came up far enough to see them. He toppled backwards, pulling his teammates down with him. A few shots rang out, but Tess and James had already catapulted out the open window. Or rather, he had gripped her around the waist and jumped, using his body as a shield between her and the ground. They rolled into a standing position and took off almost immediately.

 

By the time they cleared the woods it was nearing lunchtime, but at least they’d lost their tail.

“How’d they find us?” Tess groused over the more than audible groaning of her stomach. There could be no doubt that the men sent after them that morning were HYDRA. James gave a non-committal grunt, shifting his pack and pulling the nondescript baseball hat he wore lower over his eyes while keeping his pace two or so steps behind her. Tess shoved an unruly strand of hair behind her ear for what felt like the millionth time. A smaller town came into view and they made for it. They’d need to get their bearings in order to formulate a plan about where to go from here and how. Also, food sounded like a really good idea right now.

Tess flitted by several store fronts, searching for some sort of restaurant. Even the most ancient roadside diner or greasiest fast food joint would do at this point. Her stomach growled needily and her legs felt like they might buckle after several miles spent running and walking through the undergrowth without breakfast. Not to mention that the previous night hadn’t exactly left her well rested. By the time she realized that the sound of James’ steps behind her was conspicuously missing she was already halfway down the block. He’d stopped in front of a store window, eyes trained intently on several TVs displayed there. Two or three different news stations, all national, were warning of a dangerous fugitive in connection with the events in Washington. _‘Armed and extremely dangerous’_ the broadcasts warned, _‘do not approach if possible, proceed with extreme caution if not. Alert authorities immediately.’_

There was a picture, too, and a name.

The picture was of Tess, just a few years old from when she had started active duty at SHIELD. It must have been pulled directly off her file.

The name read _Rachel T. Sousa_.

James looked at her, mouth pressed into a thin line. He looked altogether calmer than she would probably have expected, which she somehow took to be a good sign.

“You lied to me.” He said lowly, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Maybe she was being a bit optimistic.

“No one ever called me Rachel.” Was somehow the only thing she could think to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TARFU is military jargon and short for 'Things are really fucked up'. you could have probably looked that up yourselves.  
> also, my semester starts tomorrow, on Monday, though it's probably already Monday in some places when this posts. Just a head's up that this might interfere with writing time :( I'll do my utmost not to let it, though


	15. Shards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait, the muses abandoned me D:  
> can't promise any improvement on that front either, I'm afraid :(   
> will try and do my best though

James levelled his weighty gaze upon her, making her shrink back. It suddenly became very apparent just how much bigger than her he was, how much taller and broader and stronger. She took another step back.

“You lied.” He repeated, expression raw, torn, disbelieving, hurt, and worst of all, betrayed.

“Yes,” Tess conceded, inching backwards still and fighting to control her flight reflex. “But also no. My name is Teresa – Rachel Teresa – but no one ever called me Rachel, it just didn’t stick. I took on a different last name so no one would be able to trace me back to my family while I was abroad – at school in England; I told you that. It wasn’t even my idea, originally. When I went into SHIELD, I didn’t change it back because I didn’t want special treatment.” And because she’d grown so used to it by then – Reeves; the maiden name of her maternal grandfather’s mother, obscure enough to not be obvious. Her voice was shaking now, and badly, too. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes. This was all wrong. James advanced on her, lightning fast, until she was backed into the wall beside the shop window. His arm shot out and she winced, screwing her eyes shut and waiting for the impact. Only no impact followed. She felt his closeness, the warmth his body gave off. She could hear his labored breathing even over the breakneck thumping of her own heart.

“Please…” she said, unsure what exactly she was pleading for. A noise tore itself from the back of his throat, something like a snarl, feral and wounded at once and it’s only then that Tess dares to open her eyes again. His hand is just a hair’s width away from her face, fingers tensed so much there’s the slightest tremble in them. He doesn’t touch her though, and yanks the hand away violently when one of his fingertips accidentally makes contact with her hair. But even so he’s still so, so close, trapping her against the wall completely, looming. This is an altogether terrible moment to be thinking about how handsome she thought he was, with something resembling an actual haircut and just a day’s worth of stubble now more than ever. And those big gorgeous eyes, so full of expression – even if that expression was hurt. Anything was better than the blank robot persona.

“Please, James…” she pleaded again, softly, making herself small, unthreatening. He won’t hurt her after all, she doesn’t think, though it doesn’t really do much to calm her racing heart.

“I don’t believe a word you’re saying.” He spat, straightening and stepping away just barely a foot. “Go.”

“Not without you.”

He flinched at the declaration, shaking his head a moment as if to get rid of a dizzy spell.

“Go before I make you. Don’t try to find me again or I will make you regret it.” The robot voice again. Tess saw the way his eyes shuttered, going blank, witnessed the man recede back behind the weapon. As much as she was certain that he’d not really hurt her intentionally it seemed unwise to put this hypothesis to the test. He’d made so much progress already; to see it melt away like that tore at her, even more so since she knew she was to blame for this setback. Defeated and cowed, she bent her head and sidled away.

“I’m sorry. Really, James, I am so sorry.” She whispered, taking a few tentative backward steps. He watched her coldly, all Winter Soldier and no Bucky Barnes but for the fire of betrayal burning low in those too bright eyes. Tess made her way to the end of the row of buildings like this, until James was only a small figure very far away. He hadn’t moved while she walked, watching with that eerie stillness of a sniper to make sure she didn’t try anything. He waited until she rounded the corner before taking off himself.

At least he had about half their supplies, Tess tried to reassure herself. She had divided everything up between their packs in case they somehow got separated. Only she had counted on that happening on a scale from ‘major HYDRA interference’ to never. Over all her worrying and mental self-castigating, she almost forgot that she was now a wanted fugitive. And if they knew about her they also knew about her grandmother, the state of her health and the exact address of her retirement home. Tess’ gut twisted painfully. She imagined there might be quite a few people who’d use this intel to settle whichever accounts they might think they had with the former director of SHIELD. Time to go back into the lion’s den. She had failed James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, and, by extension, Steve Rogers. She wouldn’t fail Peggy Carter also.

The small town wasn’t actually more than a stop along the road, barely inhabited except for a few retail employees. The center, if it could be called that, was the gas station that looked slightly less run down than the handful of shops. Tess slipped into the restroom first, scowling at the filth and the smell. The old mirror above the sink could use a generous amount of Windex in her opinion, but it was still clear enough that she could see the angry purple bruising lining her cheek and temple. The water at least was clean and cool, and if a few hot tears were washed down the drain along with it, that was nobody’s business.

She was mad at herself. She’d seen how vulnerable he was, how traumatized. Tess Reeves was her name as much as Sousa as far as she was concerned, then again she hadn’t been Teresa Sousa since her early teens now. It had never occurred to her to share this detail. In fact for the past years her very survival had depended on no one knowing it. Well, no one except Fury, Hill and her grandmother Peggy. Neither her SO May nor Agent Sitwell ever learned that about her; while the information wasn’t in any of her immediate personnel files it was there, although under the seal of utmost confidentiality. With the file leak, someone must have pieced it together from scraps here and there. As far as she knew not even the Black Widow knew of Tess’ family connections. It had been a necessity, she told herself, staring at her bruised face in that grimy restroom mirror. No one would have believed that former director Peggy Carter’s granddaughter would genuinely side with HYDRA. It was what had put her in a position to save Barnes in the first place. She slammed her hands against the wall hard, relishing in the sting in her palms and the shock running up her arms like a wave. She had saved him! She had pulled him out of HYDRA to the best of her abilities and then kept him safe and restarted his damn heart when he was dying on her, damn it all.

“I could have put a bullet through your brain, you jerk.” She muttered harshly, forcing herself to hold her own gaze in the grimy mirror.

She couldn’t bring herself to be mad at him for long, though. Just how she couldn’t continue blaming Captain Rogers for SHIELD’s downfall after that first burst of rage. With a weary sigh she pulled up her hood and headed outside.

 

People fear running into wanted fugitives, but they never really expect it. A bit like the average person doesn’t expect to be in a car accident, or to have their house robbed. That worked in her favor, at least a little bit. Still, Tess kept away from people as much as humanly possible on her journey back to Washington DC and the pleasant little retirement home in the city’s outskirts.

She had gone and looked for Barnes at first, on the off chance that he’d only needed a moment apart to cool down. He was nowhere to be found. Tess had stayed around for far longer than advisable before concluding that she really had lost her charge. Something she didn’t relish having to explain to Maria, so she switched off the phone and made for the nearest train tracks, following them until she found a hub. She hopped on and off freight trains like something from an old movie, taking detours and circling in around Washington in an effort to throw off any possible followers. It took her almost three days in which she barely slept and hardly ate, but worried and prayed a lot.


End file.
